


burning down the highway skyline

by Eyesofdoe



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Canon Forgetting, Divorce?, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Slow Burnish, Sonia Kaspbrak is not as bad as canon but still not good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-10-24 18:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyesofdoe/pseuds/Eyesofdoe
Summary: Richie Tozier is taking a road trip back to Derry for his cousin's wedding. Along the way, he picks up a familiar hitchhiker whose destination is the same.





	1. it only takes two hours to nevada

Richie’s cousin is getting married, and he takes enough time off that he can turn it into a vacation. Driving back to Derry isn’t something he’s keen to do, so he figures he might as well make a road trip out of it. Last time he flew he got incredibly sick, and he’s not doing that again, so he made arrangements to rent a car and planned out a route. Some of the stops are admittedly out of the way, but he’s never been to Vegas, and he’s not going to pass up on that opportunity.

He’s been driving for at least three hours and it’s starting to get dark. He just barely sees the man standing on the side of the road, looking anxious and hesitant with his thumb sticking out. Richie rarely sees people actually hitchhiking, even in L.A., now that murder podcasts have taken off and left everyone even more afraid of their fellow man.

Something about this guy has Richie pulling over, despite every stranger danger lecture he’s ever heard, and a look of relief washes over the man’s face. Richie rolls down the window.

“Where are you headed?” Richie asks.

“Well, Maine is the overall goal, but I know that’s a little far, and-”

“You know what’s so fucking weird?” Richie asks, not waiting for an answer, “I happen to be headed to Maine myself. I’m making some stops along the way though, so you’d have to be in it for the ride, you know?”

“Where in Maine?” He asks, clearly weighing his options.

“You’ve probably never heard of it; it’s a pretty small town.” Richie says, “Derry? It’s kind of-”

“You’re kidding me,” The guy laughs, but he still seems stressed, “I’m from there! That’s where I’m trying to go.”

“I guess you’ll just have to tag along.” Richie says. “Is there any specific time you need to get there? That’s the only thing that might throw a wrench in our plans.”

“No, I’m just trying to get home.”

“Hop in then.” Richie says. “I’ll pop the trunk.”

He throws his duffel bag in the back of the car, then ducks into the passenger side.

“My name’s Eddie, in case you were wondering.”

“It is nice to know who you’re making a cross country drive with,” Richie says, “I’m Richie.”

“Richie,” Eddie repeats, like he’s committing it to memory. Something about the way he says it makes Richie’s heart beat just a little bit faster, like he’s heard it before. Weird.

“You got it.” Richie says, “Why are you headed home, Eddie?”

“I don’t want to unload all my baggage on your or anything.”

“The baggage is welcome, there’s a ton in the trunk.”

Eddie laughs a little at his dumb joke. “Well, I just got divorced. It’s a good thing, though, for both of us. I wasn’t...I shouldn’t have married her. That’s all I’ll say about it. But I’ve been traveling a lot, trying to find myself, but I think it’s time to go  _ home  _ home. Confront some old demons and all that.” Eddie says, “What kind of business do you have in Derry?”

“I’m from there too. My cousin’s getting married, and I decided to take a little trip beforehand. I’ve been in L.A. a little too long; it’s time for some fresh air.”

“What do you do?” Eddie asks.

“I write for a show,” Richie says, trying to keep it casual.

He likes the writing side lately because of the anonymity it affords him. Even when he was just doing standup in little clubs, he was still getting occasionally recognized, and people were still trying to get close to him just because he was a little famous. Showrunning, he’s discovered, means no one knows your face.

“Oh, cool,” Eddie says, no further questions.

Richie likes that he doesn’t want to know what show it is, doesn’t want to know if he’s successful or not. It’s a refreshing change from the fame-seekers and the status-obsessives he knows in the city. 

“It’s so weird we’re both from Derry and we don’t know each other,” Richie comments, “It’s not even a big town, you know?”

“I guess we just didn’t run in the same circles,” Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah, I had a pretty small group of friends,” Richie says, because he thinks he did. High school is a little fuzzy, it has been for a long time, but he doesn’t remember any wild parties or being too desperately lonely. He’s concluded that he probably had a few close friends.

“Me too. I guess that explains it.”

Richie lets them sit in silence for a little while. He made some pretty good playlists for this trip, splurged on some more storage in his phone so he could download all the music he needs to get through the trip. The current genre seems to be classic rock, and Led Zeppelin feels like the perfect crutch to take them from California to Nevada.

The only sound for a while is the music and Richie’s navigation app, politely informing him that they’ll be taking an exit in 57 miles. His reservation for Vegas is already made, and Eddie will just have to either book his own room or get comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed. This stop, though, is the one Richie splurged on, so the bed should be big enough that they wouldn’t even touch.

Richie glances at Eddie, though, and thinks that he wouldn’t really mind touching. He’d be lying if he said Eddie’s appearance wasn’t a  _ little bit  _ of the reason he was willing to stop, even if he hadn’t consciously thought it at the time. But now, seeing Eddie’s profile turned toward the window, Richie likes the slope of his nose, his long eyelashes, the sharp angle of his jaw.

There’s something eerily familiar there. Richie can’t place it, but he’s chalking it up to them both coming from Derry. Even if they didn’t know each other, they probably saw each other around town, and that’s likely where this creeping sense of familiarity is coming from.

Eddie speaks up, interrupting Richie’s musings. “Where’s the first stop?”

“Vegas, baby,” Richie says, because he can’t resist a good cliche, “I’ve never been. Thought I’d hit the slots, drink until I pass out, get accidentally married. You know, all the good stuff.”

“I haven’t been either,” Eddie says, “I’ve always wanted to see it, though.”

“I’m sure it won’t live up to the hype,” Richie says, “But I wanted to start big. From here it’s a lot of pretty lame stuff.”

“Like what?” Eddie asks, “I didn’t intend to sign up for a really lame road trip.”

“You know, beggars can’t be choosers,” Richie says, giving him a fake glare, “Um...after Vegas is Utah, where we’ll be visiting some copper mines.”

“Copper mines?” Eddie asks.

“The pictures are pretty, I’m not just super into...mining.”

“Oh. Well, I am.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. Mining expert here. Just fucking love those mines.”

Richie laughs. What he’s saying isn’t that funny, but he’s got this way of speaking, that makes it one of the funniest things he’s ever heard, somehow.

Eddie laughs, and it’s like a punch in the gut. 

_ “Hey, fuckface, if you don’t give me a turn playing Smash-” _

_ “What are you going to do? Huh?” Richie said, holding the controller high up in the air. “Can’t reach it, Spaghetti Man.” _

_ “Rich, this is so not funny. Don’t call me that again. Give it to me!” He said, falling into Richie’s trap and jumping for it. Cute, cute, cute! _

_ Richie reached out to tickle him, and he writhed away, shrieking. He eventually yanked him back onto the couch. He toppled into his lap, and Richie didn’t hesitate to dig his fingers into his sides. The laughter made Richie’s heart swell, even as the other boy swore viciously in between. But when Richie let go, he stayed perched in his lap. _

_ Fingers playing with the ends his hair, puppy dog eyes, and Richie handed over the controller after a round.  _

_ “Thanks, Trashmouth,” Said with a smirk, a little lilt of the mouth. Why can’t Richie see his whole face? _

Eddie’s been talking, and Richie has to physically shake himself. What the fuck was that? It’s happened before, this sudden retrieval of memory, but never so vivid. 

“Sorry,” Richie says, “I totally zoned out. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that I looked up the place, and that it does look a lot cooler than it sounds,” Eddie says, “Sorry for making fun of your mines.”

“Yeah, well,” Richie says, “Sometimes we should reserve our judgements.”

He wants to contribute more, to keep the conversation going, but he’s undeniably shaken. Why is he remembering now? This is a whole part of his life that seemed fuzzy just hours ago, but suddenly he’s having visions like it’s been there the whole time.

“Did you ever play Smash?” Richie asks, unable to think of anything else. 

Eddie scrunches up his nose, like he has to think about it. “I think so. The Nintendo characters, right? And they fight?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yeah. Yeah!” Eddie says, like he’s remembering, “I always played Zelda.”

It takes Richie a minute to remember, he has to try really hard to visualize the screen. “I always played Link.”

“Brawl, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I think I was like, fifteen when it came out? I begged and begged for it for Christmas. My mom eventually got it for me, but I mostly played it at one of my friend’s houses.” He says. He  _ thinks.  _ It’s weird, this information basically flowing in as he speaks, but none of it sounds inaccurate.

“I had to play it at someone else’s house too. My mom didn’t let me play video games,” Eddie says, “Especially the violent ones.”

He rolls his eyes after he says it, like it’s still an issue.

“My parents weren’t really that aware of video games, I guess. They let me do whatever a lot of the time.”

“My mom’s really strict. Still is. She calls me, like, once a week.”

“I think I talked to my dad a month ago?” Richie says, like it’s a question. His relationship with his parents is good, maybe even better than most, but they leave him alone most of the time. Now that he’s fairly successful, that is. “How does your mom feel about what you’re doing now?”

“She doesn’t know yet. Unless Myra called her, which she probably did. My phone’s been dead for like a week.”

“Myra is the ex-wife?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah. My mom introduced us after I was done with school. Her friend’s daughter, you know how it is. She was so excited when we got engaged.”

“A little young to get married,” Richie comments. He doesn’t really mean anything by it, but he can’t imagine getting married now.

“I was dealing with a lot at the time, and Myra and I got along really well, and I knew it would make her happy. She wanted to start a family.”

“Did you?” Richie asks. He hopes Eddie didn’t run off with kids left behind. That would put a damper on things.

“No. I think she has some fertility issues, but she wouldn’t go to the doctor. She didn’t want to hear bad news. Now I think it’s probably a good thing. I hope she finds someone that makes her  _ really _ happy, though.”

“What did you go to school for?” Richie asks, a slight change of subject, but he’s curious.  “Psychology,” Eddie says. “I specialize with kids. I was a school counselor, but only because we were in a district where it paid pretty well. I think when I get back to Derry I might open a practice.”

“So you’re planning to stay in Derry?” Richie asks.

Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know that I _ want  _ to, but I don’t really know what else to do.”

“I like L.A.” Richie says, and it’s true, for the most part. He doesn’t like the crowds or the traffic, but he likes his steady job and his nice house and the night life.

“It’s hard finding a job. There’s counselors all over the place, and a lot of them are niche. I don’t have a niche.”

“You don’t need a niche when you’re working with kids. Some toys, some nice words. Should work just fine.”

“Tell that to the crunchy L.A. families who want me to be an expert on all things homeopathy.” 

Richie laughs, “Well, Derry is definitely a little more by the book. Maybe you’ll have more luck there.”

“Maybe.”

They fall into another comfortable silence, and Richie trains his eyes on the road. He’s trying to avoid looking at Eddie too much, doesn’t want him to think he just picked him up to be a creep. There’s something almost magnetic about him, though.

Richie stops just outside the city to grab some macaroni cups, candy bars, stuff to keep him from ordering room service or going out too much. He throws in a bottle of whiskey, knowing the bars will likely be expensive, and Eddie follows him to the counter with a phone charger in hand.

“I figure it’s time to assess the damage.” He says.

Richie sees the way his phone screen lights up once they’re back in the car, and he’s certainly glad it isn’t him with all those notifications. Voicemails, texts in all caps that Richie could read if he wanted to, emails, even Venmo requests.

“Not as bad as I expected,” Eddie concludes. “I’ll deal with it later.”

“So...what was the last straw?”

“The last straw?”

“In your marriage. If you don’t mind me asking. But I figured we could get pretty personal, considering. Feel free not to answer.”

“No, it’s fine.” Eddie sighs, “I don’t know if there was really a last straw. It was just the same stuff every day.”

“Do you think you’ll get married again?” Richie asks.

“Not…” Eddie pauses, like he’s trying to choose his words carefully or considering whether or not he should say them at all, “Not to a woman. I shouldn’t have done that in the first place.”

“Oh.” Richie says. Mostly because he doesn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I-”

“I’m not uncomfortable.” Richie says.

He’s probably the opposite of uncomfortable. Too comfortable?

“Okay,” Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, still fidgeting with his hands, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“No, I’m not like...a homophobe,” Richie says. He doesn’t want to steal this moment from Eddie by mentioning his own sexuality, especially when it seems like his first time saying this out loud to anyone. 

“I mean for marrying her. Even though I knew.”

“No.” Richie says, “People get married for a lot of reasons. Did you cheat on her?”

“No!” Eddie says.

“Then you haven’t done anything wrong. You left so you wouldn’t hurt her in the end. You can’t force yourself to be someone you’re not, you know? No matter how much your mom likes her or she loves you or whatever.”

“Thanks.” Eddie says, “I’m sorry for unloading all this, really. This is kind of a therapeutic trip for me.”

Richie thinks of his sudden resurgence of memory earlier. “Yeah. Same here. Don’t even worry about it.”

They pull into the parking lot of the hotel a bit later, maybe half an hour. When they go in, they both approach the counter. Richie gets his room key without an issue, and Eddie starts in on getting a room. Richie stands by, just in case, and he’s glad he did when Eddie retreats from the counter looking disappointed.

“They’re booked up,” Eddie says, “Do you think you could help me find somewhere else to stay?”

Richie mulls that over. They would probably have a hard time. It’s the middle of the night, and  _ most  _ places are probably booked up. After a second, he finally decides to bite the bullet.

“Well, if you don’t mind sharing a bed, you can just stay with me. I think you’ll have a hard time finding anything tonight, especially so late. I think if you  _ do  _ find somewhere, it won’t be very safe. You already took a risk hitchhiking tonight so I don’t think we should push our luck.”

“I don’t care to share a bed.” Eddie says, even though the anxiety on is face  _ definitely  _ says otherwise. “As long as you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I cared.”

The elevator ride up is almost excruciating. Eddie’s obviously feeling weird about the situation, and Richie  _ wouldn’t  _ care if Eddie weren’t being so weird about it.

It would be easier, maybe, if he wasn’t starting to think Eddie was kind of smoking hot.

But it won’t be weird no matter what. Richie’s been in weirder situations, has probably shared beds with weirder people.

“I feel bad mooching off you.” Eddie says, finally, when they reach the right floor.

Richie’s relieved that it’s a money issue, and not an ew, I’m sleeping next to a gross, disgusting human issue. “Look, it’s not a big deal. I don’t have an issue with money or anything, and I picked you up wanting to help out. I’m just helping out.”

“I can pay half if you want.”

Richie waves him off, “Don’t even worry about it. You can pay later on, maybe. I don’t have everything booked in advance.”

“What if we can’t get a room somewhere else?”

“I just don’t anticipate Nebraska being as crowded as Vegas, somehow.”

The room is huge. Richie had known it would be big, but it spans the size of three rooms in any hotel he’s stayed in before. The bathroom has marble counters, like something out of a movie, and a clawfoot tub entirely separate from the shower. Richie wishes he liked baths.

“Do you mind if I shower?” Eddie asks, “It’s been a second since I had the chance to use a shower like this.”

Richie wonders where he’s been showering, but decides not to ask. “Go for it. I shower in the morning anyway.”

Eddie crawls into bed with damp hair after Richie’s already turned the light off. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Richie can feel the bed dip a little underneath his weight. He was right about the size, they don’t touch. Richie isn’t sure if he’s disappointed or glad.

When Richie wakes up in the morning, Eddie’s sitting up in bed, scrolling through his phone. Richie allows himself about ten seconds to stare, to memorize what he looks like first thing in the morning, surprised when he starts zoning out again.

_ “My mom made pancakes,” A boy said, turning to face Richie, “She texted me.” _

_ “I don’t want your mom’s nasty gluten-free pancakes,” Richie groaned. “Do you have anything else?” _

_ “Mmm...probably some watermelon.” He said, and there was that smirk again, “And you have me.” _

_ “Oh, how naughty,” Richie laughed, wrapping his arms around his waist. He was small, his back lithe and delicate.  _

The memory melts away before their lips can touch.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, a funny smile on his face.

He’d clearly been caught staring.

Richie flashes a sheepish smile back. “Sorry. I get disoriented when I wake up sometimes, especially when someone I barely know is in bed with me.”

“Does that happen often?” Eddie asks, and Richie thinks his tone just might be flirtatious. If he squints.

“I mean...I think that’s hardly any of your business,” Richie says, keeping his tone light so Eddie knows he’s joking. 

It doesn’t happen often, either, and Richie would feel incredibly lame admitting that. He was different in college, honestly pretty slutty, but he’s done a lot of growing up. Now his flings are few and far between, and he probably hasn’t had a one night stand in about three years.

“I’m going to shower,” Richie says, “And then we can hit the city.”

They spend the morning driving, looking at all the different hotels and casinos. Eddie’s face is practically pressed to the glass. He must have been pretty sheltered to be so impressed by this, considering most of them are just fake versions of real landmarks.

They stop at the Bellagio to see the fountain, and they both order drinks despite Richie’s intention to keep from pouring all his money into alcohol.

Eddie orders something strong but fruity, and he’s seeming a little tipsy before he even finishes it. Not a big drinker, Richie notes. 

“I don’t drink a lot,” Eddie says, like he’s reading Richie’s mind, “Myra didn’t like it.”

“Well, you can drink all you want here,” Richie says, “I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

“Just one for now,” Eddie says, draining the glass and doing a little self-satisfied nod.

It’s pretty cute.

They head back to the hotel after drinks and watch some magician put on a show. He has this whole hypnotist act and before Richie can think too hard, he raises his hand to be hypnotized.

While he’s onstage, he’s fairly coherent at first. As it goes on, though, he finds himself retreating back into the state he was in this morning.

_ Richie couldn’t help but moan as their lips touched, just a soft little mm sound, but it was all so new. He’d longed for this, for whoever it is wrapped up in his arms.  _

_ “My mom’s downstairs,” The boy protested. _

_ “We’ll be quiet,” Richie whispered, “Don’t worry.” _

_ “If we get caught, she’ll never let your ass in my house ever again,” He said, “We’ll be lucky if my ass is ever allowed out of the house again.” _

_ “Oh baby, you’re a tease,” Richie had said, smiling softly, joking. _

_ “I’ll show you teasing at Bill’s later.”  _

Richie snaps out of it at that. It’s the first time he’s  _ ever  _ remembered a name, and to call it jarring would be putting it lightly. It’s not the name he wants, not the name of the boy, but it’s something closer. The magician dismisses him from the stage, and Richie takes his seat in the audience next to Eddie.

“What did I do up there?” Richie whispers.

“Don’t you remember?” Eddie asks, “I figured you were playing along.”

“What did I do?”

“Richie, you were crawling all over the stage, roaring like a lion.”

Richie must look horrified, because Eddie clearly can’t resist laughing. It becomes clear when he can’t hold it together that he’s joking.

“Oh my god, fuck you.” Richie hisses, but he’s smiling in spite of himself.

“He just put you to sleep or whatever. You volunteered first, so you got it the easiest. That guy, though,” Eddie points to someone a row ahead, then fake shudders, “You don’t even want to  _ know  _ what he did.”

He’s laughing again, and Richie looks at him and thinks about how fast he’s growing on him. Eddie is clearly a peculiar person. If he’d been able to accept himself earlier on, Richie thinks they might be a lot alike. They’re still a lot alike. It’s Eddie’s differences, like his general nervousness and his weird sense of humor, that Richie is starting to find so endearing.

When they get back up to the room, Richie goes into the bathroom to get ready so they can go to the casino. He’s in the bathroom, splashing water on his face, and he looks up into the mirror.

“Listen here,” He whispers to himself, “You are  _ not  _ going to fall in love with him. He’s cute and he’s your type, but you’ve got a good job in L.A. and he wants to stay in fucking  _ Derry  _ of all places and  _ you’re not doing this. _ ”

He feels satisfied, though it’s hard to say how long that will last.

Not long at all, it turns out, because the second he sees Eddie all dressed up in their room, it’s out the fucking window.

“Were you talking to yourself?” Eddie asks.

“You look nice,” Richie blurts out, not answering his question in the slightest.

“Thanks,” Eddie says with a soft smile.

It reminds Richie of the boy from his memories, but he pushes that thought away. 

Eddie’s fucking amazing at poker, it turns out, and he’s scraping in cash like no one’s business. Richie is pressuring him to fold, terrified he’s going to lose everything, but he just keeps going back.

“It’s not hard,” Eddie says, “I’m good at reading people.”

“You are making me so nervous,” Richie says, “How are you not nervous?”

“It’s just a game,” Eddie shrugs, as if hundreds of dollars aren’t on the line.

Richie can’t even bring himself to walk away from the table, caught up in the drama of it all.

“Ugh, I fold,” A redheaded girl across from Eddie groans.

_ “I fold.” A girl Richie’s never seen before, the only face he’s been able to make out clearly so far. Wild, curly red hair. “Hey, let’s play strip poker.” _

_ “Beverly, you pervert!” Richie gasped, faux scandalized. _

_ “More fun than playing for arcade tokens,” The boy said. His finger brushed Richie’s thigh. This was before the kissing, because Richie’s mind raced about whether or not it was intentional. _

_ “I th-th-think it’s a good idea.” A new boy, one with a fiery blush on his pale cheeks. “Wh-wh-why not?” _

God, he’s going insane. Eddie seems to have won yet another game while he was dissociating, and there’s this excited look in his eye.

“Why didn’t you start out in Vegas?” Richie asks, “You would’ve been set for a year.”

“Not a  _ year, _ ” Eddie says bashfully. “I think I’m done. You want to do anything else?”

Richie thinks about it for a second, then shakes his head. “I won like twenty bucks at a slot machine earlier, and I’m typically not a very lucky guy, so I think I should throw in the towel.”

“I think you must be a pretty lucky guy,” Eddie says moments later, once they’re back in the hotel lobby heading toward the elevator.

“How do you figure?” Richie asks.

“I mean, you’re writing for a show. You didn’t come out and say you’re wealthy, but I can piece that together myself. That’s at least partially luck.”

“I used to do standup,” Richie says, “And I didn’t like it a whole lot. So I got into the other side of things.”

“But that required someone  _ seeing  _ your standup and thinking you were worth it, you know? A little bit of talent, a little bit of right place at the right time.”

Richie hasn’t really thought about this too much. L.A. is a city full of “hustlers” and he’s never once thought of himself as lucky. He’s chalked it up to hard work, sheer determination. But that’s really just a narrative, something he’s heard from other people. 

“I guess you’re right,” Richie says, “But that doesn’t mean I’ll win any more money.”

“We’re here anyway,” Eddie says as the elevator dings, “It would be a little reductive to go back downstairs. I think at that point you’d be asking to lose money.”

“Not that you could lose any money,” Richie says, “You’re the luckier one here, card shark.”

“I used to play with my friends,” Eddie says. He’s using that unsure tone, the same one Richie does when he talks about his childhood, “Not for money, but I was always good at it.”

“Well, you certainly cleaned up down there. You won’t be needing me to pay for any more hotels,” Richie laughs.

“I’ll take you out somewhere when we’re out of Vegas,” Eddie says, “Promise. To repay you for all your kindness.”

“We’ll worry about that down the road,” Richie says, “Tonight we gotta get packed and get up in time for checkout tomorrow.”

This time, Richie’s watching a movie as Eddie showers. It’s older, some dumb comedy that’s showing on the free movie channels. Richie remembers seeing it in theaters, surprisingly, probably with this friend group he apparently had. 

When Eddie crawls into bed, Richie reaches for the remote.

“No, no. Leave it,” Eddie says, “I love this movie. We can finish it. Unless you want to sleep.”

“I’m good to finish,” Richie says, “No problem.”

It’s less awkward than you would think, being laid up in bed with someone who was a stranger to you less than two days ago. Richie thinks there’s something almost comforting about Eddie’s presence. He’d be here alone otherwise, and that would be even weirder. Or trying to hook up with someone, which would inevitably end badly, and he’d probably feel guilty about it afterwards.

Eddie’s good company, Richie’s decided, and he’s glad he thought to stop for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my professors: please write a 20 page research paper on environmental policy  
me: ok let's do this instead  
i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth, you can interact with me there


	2. a weekend in utah won't fix what's wrong with us

The hotel’s checkout time is 9 in the morning, likely an attempt to exploit drunk people who can’t help but sleep in. But Eddie’s up at seven, bustling around the room, maybe even feeling cheerful.

He had feared the worst back in California when he’d been on the side of the road, and maybe even  _ hoped  _ for the worst, just to get him out of his situation. But Richie had come along instead, with an offer of a cross-country road trip, and it seemed like the exact kind of experience Eddie was craving. 

There’s something comforting about Richie, Eddie thinks, as he sleeps soundly. Aside from his ability to sleep through Eddie’s hustle and bustle, that is. He’s funny for starters, and Eddie has desperately needed a sense of humor. He’s probably laughed more in the last few days than he has in  _ years,  _ and that’s not even an overstatement. He’s kind, has been listening to Eddie tell his life story in bits and pieces without any judgement or discouragement. And there’s something familiar about him that makes him feel...like home, almost, at the risk of sounding insane. Richie’s stirring, finally, with about an hour left to checkout. Eddie’s relieved he won’t have to wake him up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie says, a little condescending but mostly fond. “Sleep well?”

Richie groans in response, “Feel like I barely slept. Weird dreams all night. Derry’s fucking with my head and we’re still like forty hours away.”

“Not to mention all the stops,” Eddie says, “But I always have nightmares when I’m going home.”

Except this time, so far. He’s been sleeping soundly since they checked into the hotel. Maybe it’s the super comfortable bed, or maybe it’s having another presence with him. He’s always liked sharing a bed, despite the awkwardness. It’s comforting.

“It’s cursed or something,” Richie says, “Haunted.”

Eddie just laughs, but he’s felt the same before. Derry’s just different than most towns. It’s gray and bleak and simple, and why is he going back for good? To live with his mom? What is he  _ doing? _

He pushes those thoughts away, not wanting to have some sort of mental break so early in the morning. Richie’s in the shower, singing at a volume that he probably thinks Eddie can’t hear. Or maybe he does, and he doesn’t care. So far, Richie seems shameless, a trait that Eddie really admires. He’s riddled with shame, crawling with it, and it’s always made things more difficult for him.

He opens his phone and looks at his texts again, trying to decide whether or not he should respond.

_ Why did you leave me?  _

_ Young man, I expect an explanation for this behavior at once. _

_ I’m so alone without you, Eddie, how am I supposed to take care of myself? _

_ That poor girl, all alone in a big city, how selfish can you be? _

Rows and rows of unread messages. His mom, then Myra, his mom, Myra, a stray text from one of his coworkers, inquiring about his sudden departure from the school and the city.

He debates for a moment then finally decides it’s time to text his mother.

_ Mom, I’m coming home. Just for a little while. I’ll be there in a week or two, and I’ll explain. _

Then Myra.

_ I’m sorry for everything. But we both know it wasn’t right. I can’t love you that way. Maybe someone else can. _

He’s crying as he hits send, trying not to think too hard. Myra deserves a better explanation, but Eddie can’t give her one until he talks to his mother. Can’t give her one until she knows the truth. His shoulders are shaking, and he hears the shower turn off but he’s too far gone to care.

Richie comes out a few minutes later, but Eddie’s still got tears streaming down his face. Richie doesn’t question it, just sits down next to him on the bed and slides an arm around his shoulders. Eddie turns into his chest and let himself cry.

_ “Eds, it’ll be okay,” A voice, familiar. A face, blurry, but Eddie knows it’s beautiful.  _

_ “I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Eddie sobbed, “How am I supposed to see everyone?” _

_ “We’ll figure it out. This would be a dream for most people, Eds, college in New York? You’re so smart and you’ll do so well, and I’ll miss you like crazy but we have phones. You know the song! ‘A thousand miles seems pretty far but they’ve got planes and trains and cars.’” _

_ “I’ll only be 500 miles away, actually.” Eddie snorted, despite the tears rolling down his face. _

_ “So we’re already halfway there.” He said, hand cradling Eddie’s cheek. “That’s nothing.” _

_ “You know she did it on purpose. Maine would be cheaper. She’s only offering to pay for NYU so I won’t be with you guys.” _

_ “Eddie, it’s going to be okay. I love you.” _

_ “I love you, too. Promise you won’t forget me?” _

_ Heartbreak in his voice, “Eddie, I couldn’t forget you even if I wanted to.” _

Eddie isn’t crying anymore, he’s just buried in Richie’s chest, smelling something spearmint-y and woodsy, probably his deodorant. Richie’s hand is on his back, just holding him there, keeping him grounded and steady.

“You okay?” Richie asks, finally, now that Eddie’s stopped shaking. “We could stay here a little while if you want, like if you need some time. I’ll pay the late checkout. Or you can, with all your gambling money.”

“No, no,” Eddie says, “I’ll be okay. Let’s head out and get some breakfast.”

“You sure?”

Eddie just nods. 

They’re out the door at 8:45, and in a diner on the outskirts of the city a bit later. Eddie gets eggs and bacon, needing something normal, and Richie orders a cheeseburger.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asks once the waitress is gone. She’d even shot Richie a look, like  _ why me _ , and it’s a Vegas diner.

“I don’t like breakfast food,” Richie says, “So I don’t eat it.”

“So instead you order a burger at nine A.M. in the morning?”

Richie shrugs, “Not that weird.”

Eddie shakes his head, “Gross.”

“Would you eat a burger at noon?” Richie asks.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, “Not a big burger guy.”

“But you would. What’s different about eating one now?”

“We just woke up!”

“And?”

And Eddie’s at a loss, because this is not an important thing to argue about. Somehow, though, he feels like this is the hill he has to die on. He thinks a minute, sips at his coffee.

“And it’s so greasy!” Eddie says, finally, like he’s won.

“Your bacon is going to be just as greasy at my burger, if not worse.”

“The waitress didn’t like that you ordered it. She thought it was weird.”

“I’m sure people have ordered weirder stuff.”

“What’s weirder than a burger for breakfast?”

“A lot of things. Apple pie with cheese on top.”

“Who does that?”

“A lot of people.”

“I think you’re making it up,” Eddie says, “I think you’re a liar.”

Richie yanks his phone out of his pocket, pretending to be irritated, but Eddie can see a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

Their food comes after Richie proved his point, thankfully excusing Eddie from the dumb argument he started. He’s not ready to admit he’s wrong, but he’s admittedly run out of evidence. 

Richie’s switched to a new playlist, this one folksy and indie. The sound reminds Eddie of Mumford and Sons, but the singers’ have these grating, raw voices. He clearly isn’t cool enough to know the artists. Richie, though, mouths along with the words. Eddie listens, because this is the kind of thing he would like if he were knowledgeable at all about music, and the first hour of the drive flies by as he alternates between listening to the lyrics and watching Richie mime them.

Two hours in, he’s getting a little antsy. Richie has driving to focus on, but Eddie has next to nothing, besides his phone. Which he’s treating like it’s venomous after the incident this morning. It had gone off in the diner, but he’d simply turned it off, unwilling to put himself through it again. Now, though, he’s thinking about looking. Just to have something to do, and because it drives him crazy not to know who texted him or about what.

“Theoretically, if I were to cry again, would that distract you?” Eddie asks, turning his phone back on.

“Honestly, probably a little bit, but go for it if you need to.” Richie says, glancing over at Eddie from the driver’s side.

“I texted my mom and Myra this morning,” Eddie says, “I told my mom I was coming home. And I told Myra that I didn’t think we loved each other. And I was just reading all the messages, and...anyway, one of them replied this morning.”

“Go ahead.” Richie says, “If it’s really bad, I’ll pull over.”

_ Coming home to New York?  _ It was his mother.

_ No, to Derry.  _ He sends back.

Her reply is instant.  _ Good. I need to talk some sense into you. _

_ My mind is made up, ma. I can’t do it anymore. _

_ Nonsense. Every marriage has its problems. _

Eddie doesn’t reply to that one, just puts his phone back in his pocket. He tips his head back, closes his eyes, and before he even realizes he’s tired, he’s asleep.

He wakes up and it’s mid-day, the sun hot overhead even with the air conditioning on full blast. Richie looks at him with a smile on his face.

“You were snoring,” He says with a self-satisfied grin.

“I do  _ not _ snore,” Eddie protests.

“You were just then,” Richie shrugs, “Don’t worry, it was pretty cute.”

Eddie’s heart  _ slams  _ against his chest when Richie says that, which is a pretty gross overreaction. But this is...flirting? With a man. Probably for the first time, at least the first time Eddie remembers.

He thinks, maybe, that he had a boyfriend. The few memories he has of his adolescence seem to point towards that. There was a boy he spent a lot of time with, that frequently reappears in his little visions. Eddie can’t see his face, but he remembers being infatuated at least.

But that still doesn’t prepare him for this, as an adult, actually hearing someone indicate what is maybe an interest in him. Especially someone like Richie, who’s successful and attractive and seemingly well-rounded. Accepting of his own sexuality, which is (if Eddie’s pieced it together correctly) pointedly not hetero.

“How close are we?” Eddie asks, not voicing any of this, because the last thing he needs is to be stranded in Utah.

“About an hour from the hotel. You slept for a while. We’ll see the mine tomorrow, and then it’s on to Colorado. I’m only planning on a night there.”

“What are we doing in Colorado?”

“I am smoking as much legal weed as I can possibly stand, but you’re free to make your own choices.”

“Sounds good.” Eddie says, like he’s done tons of weed before. He hasn’t.

Richie gives him a look, like he can read his mind. “You sure?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Richie says, laughing a little, “You just...don’t seem like the type.”

“It’s 2019, everyone does pot.”

Richie snorts, “If you’re calling it pot, you’re probably not doing it.”

“Well, maybe I’d like to try. Is that okay with you?”

“I’m not your boss.”

“Isn’t weed legal in California?” Eddie asks.

“I mean, yeah,” Richie says, “But I don’t have a whole lot of leisure time, believe it or not. And I’m going to have to get fucking high to deal with the fact that I’m going back to Derry.”

“Why do you hate it so much?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t like it either, but Richie seems almost afraid.

“I don’t know,” Richie admits, “I just get this feeling every time I think about it, and it’s...dark. I know that sounds fucking stupid, but I just hate it. This is the first time I’ve been back since I moved to L.A.”

“Don’t you miss your family?”

“Yeah, but they visit me. I can afford to fly them out, so we usually do that. It’s easier for them to clear their schedules anyway. When they visit me, I can still go to work and stuff. It’s just better for everyone.”

“I’m always expected home for holidays,” Eddie says.

“I haven’t been since college. I stayed over most breaks, probably because I just don’t like Derry that much. And UMaine had a  _ crazy  _ good Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I wanted to go to UMaine, but my mom wouldn’t let me,” Eddie says, “I don’t know why.”

“You’d think she’d want you close if she was strict,” Richie says.

“I don’t know. She had her reasons, I guess,” Eddie says, “All my friends went to UMaine. I think she wanted us to be apart. I didn’t get into trouble until I started hanging out with my friends.”

“I think that’s usually the way it goes,” Richie says, “I was probably getting in trouble before, but I was a bit of a problem child.”

“Yeah?”

“Unfortunately. Looking back I feel like such a brat. I was just kind of an asshole. Obnoxious at nap time, colored on other kids’ papers, shit like that. Then I had a one-on-one meeting with the principal, got diagnosed with ADHD, put on meds, and things settled out for the most part. I got suspended once in high school, though.”

“Why?” Eddie asks.

“I...I can’t remember,” Richie says, like he’s surprised, “I guess it wasn’t a big deal. I just remember my mom being so pissed, and staying home from school and trying to convince my friends to ditch and come see me.”

“You know what’s weird about Derry?” Eddie asks before he can lose his nerve, “I feel like I don’t remember a damn thing about my life there.”

“Me too!” Richie says, almost yelling. He sounds relieved. “I’ve thought I was fucking insane this whole time, like something is wrong with me. I keep getting these weird flashbacks, but I can’t see faces. I’m finally getting some names, but it’s like...nothing is vivid enough for me to  _ really  _ remember.”

“You’re right about there being something dark about Derry,” Eddie says, “I just don’t know what it is.”

They’re pulling into the hotel parking lot before they can get too deep into discussion about this, and Eddie firmly tells himself not to be disappointed when there’s a room with two beds available. Eddie does step in to pay though, despite Richie’s protests. There’s no elevator in this hotel, just a staircase, and Eddie’s thankful he just brought a duffel bag. 

The room certainly isn’t as nice as the one in Vegas, but it’s not bad either. There’s a proper shower and a TV with cable, which are two things Eddie’s decided he doesn’t want to live without anymore.

After they’re settled in, they go through a drive through instead of going out for dinner, and Richie opens the whiskey he bought in Vegas. He buys two vending machine Cokes, making cheap cocktails. It’s weird how Eddie is already so comfortable around him, secure enough to drink and laugh and sleep next to him. 

“Cheers to being from the same hometown,” Richie says, “And somehow never meeting.”

“Cheers,” Eddie smiles, and their glasses clink together.

_ “Cheers to being a loser on New Years!” A tall boy, one whose face Eddie can see, said, “And may we spend every New Years together.” _

_ “Quiet down!” The maybe boyfriend hissed, unusually irritated, “My parents are downstairs.” _

_ Someone had snuck in a bottle of wine, something red and too bitter for them just yet. But they were all pretending to enjoy, including Eddie. _

_ “It’s okay,” Eddie had said. He was tipsy, “It’s okay, my love.” _

_ “You’re so sweet when you’re drunk,” The boy said, “Maybe we should drink every day.” _

_ “They won’t hear us, I promise, I love you.” _

_ “I love you too,” He’d laughed, “I think it’s bedtime for Eddie.” _

_ They’d snuck off then, fallen asleep together in his bed. Eddie remembers being held, so close, so dear. He hasn’t felt love like that since. _

“Do you remember the first time you got drunk?” Eddie asks, because he just has.

“Yeah,” Richie says, “I was a wild child, you know, so I was like...fifteen? I had this friend. Her name was...Beverly. We used to get into a  _ lot  _ of trouble together. I don’t know how we didn’t get in more trouble. We snuck these wine coolers from her aunt, with some punny name. You couldn’t taste the alcohol and we were  _ shitfaced _ .”

“I was at a New Years party,” Eddie says softly, “I just remembered.”

“Oh, congrats! You know, I’ve been having a lot of that on this trip so far. More than I have altogether in years.”

“Probably because we’re headed back,” Eddie says, “I hope that once we get back I’ll remember everything.”

“That’d give you whiplash,” Richie says with a sad smile, “Suddenly remembering your entire adolescence.”

Richie’s sad, clearly, about the years he’s lost. Eddie thinks he is too, but not nearly as much. He’s always assumed that he didn’t do much since his mother is the way she is. Now that he’s seeing these memories, with friends and someone to love him, he’s starting to get sad too.

They drink enough that Eddie feels his self-control taper away just the tiniest bit. He can still control the words coming out of his mouth, but he’s less picky about what he allows through the filter.

“Are you straight?” He asks, suddenly courageous, knowing he can blame it on the alcohol if Richie reacts badly, “I’ve been wondering.”

Richie chokes on his drink, eyes wide. After he starts breathing again, he laughs. “Yeah, no. I’m not straight.”

“Bi?”

“Something like it. I think I could love anyone, given the right conditions. I think I must have missed my soulmate somewhere, though.”

“No way,” Eddie says, “Everyone must be so in love with you.”

“If they are, then I must be the most oblivious man alive,” Richie says, that little sad smile on his face again, “I had someone once, I think. I don’t remember it very well, but I think I loved him. I wonder if that was it for me, sometimes, but I’d hope that I’d remember my one true love.”

“I can’t wait to start dating again,” Eddie says, and he feels a little sick admitting it. He’s been too busy wading in his guilt to really think about the possibilities, the fact that he can be himself now, “I’ve never really done that.”

“Dating’s not all that fun for me anymore,” Richie says, “If you’d asked in college, I’d be all about it. I was definitely not down with monogamy at that point in my life. Now, though, I just wish I had someone. All the time, forever, you know.”

“You’ll find someone.”

“Not everyone does. I’d be okay if I didn’t, I think. Lonely in the end, but okay. I think I’m just itching to commit to someone since I’ve kind of figured shit out everywhere else. I’ve got a job and a house and a good life, you know? You want someone to share that with.”

“I wish I had anything figured out,” Eddie snorts, self-deprecating, “I’ve spent the last five years living a lie.”

“That’s not on you,” Richie says.

“I knew who I was when I got into it.”

“There’s pressure, though, from society and your family and everyone else in your life. Like...my parents know that I go both ways or whatever, but I know if I bring home a guy they’ll be just a  _ little  _ less happy for me, you know? I just don’t care that much,” Richie says, “Someone like you, though, you want people to think you’ve done good. Made a good life for yourself. Part of that is the wife and the kids.”

“I don’t even know if I want kids.”

“You’ll figure it out. We’re not old and decrepit or anything. I got lucky, like you said back in Vegas,” Richie says, “I never thought things would end this way for me.”

“How did you?”

“I don’t think I ever really saw myself getting past college,” Richie says, dropping that bomb like it’s casual, “I couldn’t imagine not being young, couldn’t imagine me succeeding at anything. It was rough for me. I was kind of self-absorbed, super into sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, you know, all the good stuff. But it fucked me up for a while.”

“Are you happy now?” Eddie asks. He wants to hear about  _ someone  _ being happy.

“Yeah, for sure,” Richie says, “I’ve got friends, I’ve got a good life. I know that if I keep dating around I’ll probably meet someone. If I don’t, I’ll still have fun and be happy and do my thing.”

“I hope I’ll be happy,” Eddie says candidly. He’s getting tired.

“You will be,” Richie says, and Eddie doesn’t ask why he sounds so sure.

The copper mine, as it turns out, is gorgeous. The tours, on the other hand, are the most boring thing Eddie’s ever done in his fucking life. Richie’s been muttering under his breath the whole time, making jokes, so he must be feeling the same way.

“As I’m sure you know,” The tour guide says, an over-excited look on her face, “This mine is the world’s largest manmade hole!”

“Clearly they haven’t seen what I can do in the bedroom,” Richie mutters, and Eddie can’t help but snort laugh so loudly everyone turns to look in his direction.

He tries to mask it by coughing, and that seems to satisfy everyone. After they’ve turned away, he smacks Richie on the thigh.

“Ow!” Richie hisses, but he’s giggling.

“That was so fucking gross,” Eddie hisses back, but he’s laughing too.

“Don’t worry, Eds, I can show you if you want,” Richie says, and Eddie knows he’s joking, but it’s getting to him. “Maybe then you won’t be so uptight.”

“Shut  _ up. _ ” Eddie says through gritted teeth. Is this friendship?

They get kicked off the tour. Maybe not kicked off, but politely asked to leave. So they go back to see the copper mine on their own.

“It just looks like a lake,” Eddie says.

“It reminds me of the quarry in Derry, kind of,” Richie says, “Did you ever go there?”

_ Hands, long fingers, splayed out on his back and pushing him towards the edge. _

_ “Do not push me in, motherfucker,” Eddie hissed. He’s younger in this one. _

_ “Eddie doth protest too much,” The boy laughed back. His face is clearer here, but not clear enough for Eddie to recognize him. _

_ “I’m scared, asshole.” _

_ “Here,” The boy said, offering a hand, “Let’s do it together.” _

_ Their friends bobbed in the water below. Eddie took his hand, secretly pleased but feigning reluctance. _

_ They got a running start, jumped in together.  _

Eddie startles back before they hit the water.

“Yeah,” He says. “I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the longest chapters, i think, so don't expect them all to be this long! also, i know this road trip route is probably not like, sensible in real life, but let's have some suspension of disbelief.
> 
> comment here or contact me @trashtoziermouth on tumblr!


	3. hold you through the night and watch that colorado sunrise

They pack together the next morning, dancing around as Eddie blasts his extensive playlist of eighties pop. Richie is kind of just bobbing his head, but he’s liking watching Eddie exert this kind of energy. It’s probably the happiest he’s seen at him. This is one of their longest drives, from Salt Lake to Denver, and Richie’s trying to get out his energy while he can.

“Can I drive?” Eddie asks, “Some of it? I know it’s your car, but I’m a really careful driver, and-”

“Sure,” Richie says, cutting him off. He’d honestly let Eddie drive part of the way even if his license was suspended, just to keep from driving eight hours himself, “Go for it. You want to start or switch later?”

“I’ll start,” Eddie says.

They hit the road after a complimentary hotel breakfast in which Richie chokes down a plate of scrambled eggs. Eddie teases him mercilessly for eating it after claiming not to like breakfast, and Richie takes it just to see the smile on his face.

Richie is realizing, slowly, that he’s totally gone for Eddie already. They’ve been doing a lot of talking and bonding and maybe it’s just that they’ve been spending so much time together, but he’s into this. Into their dynamic, Eddie’s looks, the way he laughs, how he reacts to the stupid shit Richie says. 

He thinks of his laugh at the copper mines yesterday, the  _ snorting,  _ like Richie said anything  _ that _ funny.

“I missed driving,” Eddie says contentedly from behind the wheel, “I left Myra the car. I changed it to her name and everything, it was all paid off. I haven’t gotten around to getting one of my own yet.”

“This is a rental,” Richie says, “My truck is old and beat up and probably couldn’t take the mileage.”

“You haven’t bought a fancy new car since you got big?”

“I hate to disappoint you, but writing doesn’t really make you famous.”

“But you make enough money to buy a fancy car if you want one.”

Richie doesn’t say anything.

“Right?” Eddie prods.

“Why? Are you hoping to inherit my fortune?” Richie asks, finally, “You’ll have to marry me first for that.”

Eddie flushes, and Richie feels rewarded. His reactions are so dramatic, always, likely a result of really being out there for the first time. Richie loves it.

“I’m just asking,” Eddie says.

“I like the truck,” Richie says, “I’ve had it since I was sixteen. I don’t drive a lot because L.A. traffic stresses me out, so I don’t really need a fancy car.”

“I like cars,” Eddie says, “I want to collect them one day.”

“Really?” Richie asks, impressed. He tries not to play into stereotypes, but Eddie doesn’t really seem like the car type. Richie doesn’t know what he seems like.

“Yeah!” Eddie says, “I was sort of the go-to when my friends had car problems, you know? I knew a lot about it. I had to spend a lot of time at home, because of my mom, so I spent a lot of it kind of fiddling around.”

“Wow. Good to know we’re set if we break down.”

“It’s been a long time,” Eddie says humbly, but there’s a satisfied smile on his face. He likes being useful, relied on. Richie makes a note of that.

“Would you drive them?” Richie asks, “These future cars of yours?”

“Of course!” Eddie says, “It’s what they’re made for. Letting a car sit for years is a lot more harmful than putting a few miles on it. I won’t be going on any cross-country road trips, obviously, but it would be fun to take one out every now and then.”

“You like old cars or fancy new ones?” Richie asks.

“Old ones,” Eddie says, “The seventies, mostly. There’s some good sixties models, but I’m a seventies guy.”

As far as Richie’s concerned, that’s the right answer.

Eddie pulls off an exit about two hours later without even asking, and Richie’s surprised in a pleasant kind of way. He’s getting less nervous around him, and that’s a good thing. They end up at a Starbucks, which isn’t really what Richie imagined with the gas needle hovering just above the E, but they’re here to have a good time.

“I’ll get gas and we can switch after this,” Eddie says, finally, as he turns into the drive through, “I just need a fix. You like coffee?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, “Just black.”

“Oh. You’re one of those people.”

“One of those people?”

“You know, black coffee, like my soul,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “So much better than us latte drinkers.”

“I get it with milk sometimes,” Richie says.

Eddie snorts, like that somehow makes it worse.

“Hot or iced?” Eddie asks.

“Iced.”

“Well, at least you’ll do that,” Eddie says.

He orders for both of them, getting Richie a large, which he really doesn’t need. He’ll drink it anyway though, and deal with the shaky hands, just to make Eddie feel good.

“For the record,” Richie says, once they’re headed for a gas station, “I don’t look down on anyone for drinking lattes.”

“I was just giving you shit,” Eddie says, “And making fun of you before you could make fun of me.”

Richie glances at Eddie’s cup, sees the laundry list of instructions printed on the drink slip. It’s practically novel-length.

“Might as well have just told them to toss the whole stockroom in there,” Richie says, “Might have been easier for everyone.”

“There we go,” Eddie says, smiling.

Richie insists on pumping the gas since Eddie paid for the coffee, and he’s endlessly amused when Eddie crawls over the center console rather than getting out of the car and walking around to the other side.

“It’s a big car!” Eddie protests when Richie laughs at him, “And this is easier!”

“I think saying it’s easier is a little misleading,” Richie says, “A shorter distance? Yes. But clambering over the middle of the car, I think, might be a little harder than just walking to the other side.”

“It saved time.”

“Time that I spent pumping gas anyway,” Richie says.

“Whatever,” Eddie huffs, “You’re just jealous you can’t get your Jack and the Beanstalk legs over the fucking transmission.”

“Oh my God, that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard,” Richie laughs, “You’re mean!”

“I’m not mean!”

“You  _ are  _ mean,” Richie says, and he’s delighted. He loves seeing Eddie showing him his real self, not just the complacent, appealing part of him that got him into the car.

He climbs into the car, and Eddie is still wiggling in the seat trying to adjust. He leans over to buckle his seatbelt, and suddenly they’re face to face, only inches away. 

_ Richie had been relentlessly teasing him that day, feeling like they were on the verge of something more. Flirty little touches, all light shoves and hands resting on his shoulders. They were sitting on the cliff at the quarry, a cold night, too cold to jump in but perfect for watching the water shimmering below. _

_ “So…” Richie said, because he wanted this so badly. He didn’t want to initiate, in case he’d somehow misconstrued everything. Lifelong friendship, too precious to destroy just because lately, looking at him was like being slapped in the face by love and desire. _

_ “So.” He said, refusing to play along. _

_ “I think there’s something we need to talk about,” Richie said, swallowing both his fear and his pride. _

_ “And what’s that?” _

_ Richie had looked over, and he can see eyes for the first time, big and deep brown and peeking up at him from underneath long, beautiful eyelashes.  _

_ They kissed for the first time, that night, underneath the stars. Richie got home past curfew, but was sent upstairs after a few stern words when his mother saw the look on his face. He was desperately, head over heels in love for the first time. _

Eddie’s blinking rapidly when Richie comes to, like he’s been in a trance. Richie veers away sharply, and unsure of how to deal with the situation, he bursts into laughter. Eddie laughs too, and things seem to settle down.

Richie just can’t shake off the familiarity in his eyes.

They’re in Denver in what seems like the blink of an eye, even in a silent car ride after their near collision. The hotel is another mid-range one, good but not great, but there is a Starbucks in the lobby, which Eddie seems pretty happy about. There’s a room left with two beds, which Richie is  _ not  _ happy about, but he tries to look relieved.

Something is changing between them, Richie can feel it, and since he was catching Eddie sneaking glances at him the whole way here, he knows he feels it too. This is a weird situation, because there’s something about Eddie that makes him feel like they’ve always known each other, but he’d surely remember someone so significant in his life. Eddie must just remind him of someone, one of the people he’s forgotten since he graduated college and left Maine for good.

It’s a relaxing night, for the most part. Richie goes to buy weed alone, because he can see Eddie’s nervousness coming off him in waves, and he needs to get away for a moment. It goes much better than he expected, and he’s lighting it up a little under an hour later.

“You really don’t have to,” Richie says from the balcony. Inside, Eddie is having a minor meltdown, “I won’t judge you or anything. We’re basically strangers.”

“I know I’ll regret it if I don’t,” Eddie says, “I just can’t get over that it’s a drug.”

“Have you ever done it before?”

“I didn’t think so, but then I smelled it when you came in and now I remember something,” Eddie says, “Someone else...what do you call it when they blow smoke in your mouth?”

“Shotgunning?” Richie asks, unable to mask his delight. 

“That’s it,” Eddie says.

Richie waits a minute, licks his lips before he calls inside again, deciding to take the plunge, “Wanna do it again?”

“Jesus Christ, who do you think I am?” Eddie asks, but he’s out on the balcony seconds later, indicating that he’s precisely who Richie thinks he is.

Eddie sits down in the chair next to him, props his legs up on the table, and looks at Richie with the most anguished, indecisive expression he’s ever seen.

“Okay,” Richie says, “What does your gut say?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, no hesitation, “But my brain says no.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s illegal!”

“Except it’s not,” Richie says.

“Okay,” Eddie says, “Okay, okay, okay. I want to do it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Eddie says, this time with confidence. It’s enough for Richie to pass him the joint and let him take a hit. He’s on his feet to get a glass of water before Eddie even sucks in, and the coughing fit he hears from outside tells him he made the right choice.

“Good?” Richie asks.

Eddie nods, a little teary but overall composed.

Richie has no idea how he got here.

They don’t get very high, not by Richie’s standards at least, but the night slips away fast. The air is cool and their conversation is coming easy, and the sun is coming up before they realize they’ve been awake all night.

“Oh no,” Eddie groans.

“Let’s watch the sunrise, and then we can go to bed,” Richie says, “It won’t kill us to take a day off.”

He thinks they can drive through Illinois without stopping to make up for lost time. He wasn’t super into all the tourist-y stuff he had planned anyway.

“Just a nap,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, okay,” Richie laughs.

They stumble inside, not so much high anymore but mostly just sleep deprived, and when Eddie falls into bed with Richie he doesn’t protest. 

“Mine’s too far,” Eddie says by way of explanation, but Richie doesn’t  _ need  _ an explanation, not when he’s been longing to feel the weight of Eddie’s body next to his. He sleeps deep and long, and they don’t wake up until long after noon.

They spend the day being lazy, ordering room service and watching old movies. Eddie harasses Richie into going out that night, and they end up at a bar. Richie’s drinking a little faster than he should be, and he ends up leaning on Eddie the whole way back to their room.

“I’m sorry,” Richie says, because he’s at the apologetic stage of being drunk, “I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Eddie says. His tone is pure comfort, not an ounce of anger or resentment. “We were just having fun.”

“We can still have fun,” Richie says, “You know.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, “What are you talking about?”

Richie  _ does  _ manage to stop himself before he suggests they sleep together, in a surprising display of self-control. He just laughs instead, and Eddie seems content to buy into the idea that he’s talking nonsense.

“It’s nice to be taking care of you for once,” Eddie says, “It makes me feel less like a freeloader.”

“You’re not!” Richie protests, “I like having you here. I’m so lonely all the time, I live alone, I would’ve been on this trip alone. I’m glad you came with me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t murder me.”

“I’m glad you didn’t murder  _ me _ .”

“I guess we were facing an equal possibility of being murdered,” Eddie laughs, “I’m glad you picked me up. No one else would’ve been heading for Maine, and I think a road trip is exactly what I needed.”

“Like fate,” Richie says. He doesn’t elaborate,but Eddie doesn’t seem to want him to.

“You’ve been so good to me,” Eddie shakes his head, “I owe you huge. Getting your drunk ass back to the room is only the beginning, really.”

“I just did the right thing.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything to that. Richie thinks it’s sad, the way Eddie thinks he’s doing him some huge favor when really, he’s not going out of his way at all. And he really has enjoyed the company, not just because he’s lonely, but because Eddie is fun. And hot, honestly, and Richie’s just noticing  _ that _ more the more he looks at him.

They, of course, end up in separate beds. Richie can’t complain, not when Eddie hauled him all the way to the room, and he’s still not drunk enough to claim that’s why he wants to share a bed. He falls asleep with the room spinning, and hopes he won’t wake up with  _ too  _ awful a headache. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth  
i've been loving reading y'all's comments!!! this has honestly been one of my favorite projects ever to work on


	4. setting the lay of nebraska alight

Eddie’s watching Richie sleep in the early hours of the morning, sipping a cup of coffee from the hotel room coffeemaker. It’s not good, the staring or the coffee, but Eddie really can’t help himself from partaking in either. Richie’s beautiful in the early morning, freckles on his eyelids and slightly parted lips. He manages to turn away before it gets creepy, facing the wall instead and scrolling through the news on his phone.

He’s halfway through a human interest piece on some goats hired to eat the weeds around a baseball stadium when Richie finally stirs, and the immediate groan lets him know that Richie is  _ not  _ feeling great.

Eddie’s really not feeling too hot either, not after the drinking and  _ especially _ not after the dream-induced memory he had last night about his first time getting high. He’d been right about the shotgunning, but he hadn’t remembered anything else about it. Until last night.

_ “It’s like a kiss,” He explains, “Except inhale, hold it in. You’re still smoking, just not from a cigarette or something.” _

_ “Like I’ve ever smoked a cigarette,” Eddie snapped. _

_ “Look, smartass, to some degree it’ll come naturally. As long as you want to.” _

_ “For the last time, I want to!” _

_ He’d cut him off then, taking a drag and leaning in slow, giving Eddie plenty of time to prepare himself. When their lips got close, Eddie could feel it, like a direct rush to his lungs. Blooming inside him, YOU DON’T HAVE ASTHMA EVERYTHING IS FINE, and then an exhale, and it’s over. But they’re still so close, and the other boy closes the gap. _

_ Lips hurried, clumsy, like they’re still getting used to each other. But hungry, so much longing, both teenage desperation and something more. Eddie’s head was spinning, and he couldn’t help the grin taking over his entire face, but when he pulls away he finally sees his face clearly. _

_ The hair is darker and wilder, the face less weathered, and the glasses are thinner. But it’s unmistakably Richie.  _

_ “I love you,” Richie says. _

_ “I love you too,” Eddie says back, still wearing a lazy grin. _

So, now, looking at Richie gives him all these weird feelings. He can’t figure out if these memories are real, or if he’s filling in gaps, or if he’s inserted Richie into his fantasies because he’s harboring a little crush on him. But they seem so detailed, many of them innocuous, that it doesn’t make sense for him to manufacture them entirely.

“Jesus Christ,” Richie groans, “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“You weren’t even that drunk,” Eddie says.

“Wow, suddenly everything is better,” Richie says, “Because Eddie told me I wasn’t even that drunk.”

Eddie laughs, ignoring Richie’s grumbling as he crawls out of bed to take a shower. He doesn’t know if he should tell him or not, and now he’s wondering if Richie remembers and if he’s just been keeping it a secret this whole time. It makes sense, now, that he and Richie have so many common experiences, that they both don’t remember their first love.

Eddie finishes his coffee and starts in on packing. They have an hour left until checkout, and he doesn’t want to spend another day in Colorado. Richie’s a whirlwind, stumbling out of the shower with dripping hair and practically throwing all his stuff into his suitcase. 

“Last night was certainly a lapse in judgement,” Richie says, “No, let’s get drunk when we have to leave at ten in the morning, not a bad idea at all.”

Eddie laughs, still feeling weird about this whole thing. He doesn’t know what to say. Surely Richie doesn’t remember, if he hasn’t brought it up. But now Eddie isn’t bringing it up either, because he thinks Richie doesn’t remember, so what if they both remember and he’s just afraid, too?

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie says.

Richie drops what he’s doing, turns to look at him full on. The unwavering attention makes Eddie falter. He can’t say it.

“Make sure you get your shower stuff,” He says, finally.

Richie snaps his fingers, “Fuck, thank you.”

They’re out the door after another ten minutes, and Richie seems to be in a good mood. He pulls into a Starbucks drive through without Eddie even asking, and remembers his order. Eddie tries to pay, physically shoving his card into Richie’s palm, but Richie grabs his hand to stop him. He leaves it there as he pays, and Eddie shouldn’t be getting so excited about holding hands as an adult, especially when it’s not even romantic, but he is anyway.

They’re headed for Nebraska, which admittedly isn’t somewhere Eddie ever thought too hard about going. And Richie’s having him call around to hotels, but so far, they’re all booked up.

“What the fuck is going on in Nebraska?” Richie complains after the fifth phone call.

“Well, why are we stopping there?”

“Essentially just to sleep,” Richie says.

“I think the issue is that there’s not really many hotels in the first place,” Eddie says.

After a couple more rejections, Eddie looks at him expectantly. Richie seems to do well with spontaneous problems, and Eddie’s thankful, because this is the kind of thing that would have him spiraling if he were alone. Richie just turns up the radio, takes a long sip of his coffee, and shakes his head. Eddie surprises himself by still having faith in him.

The song playing is one Eddie remembers, something early-2000s and poppy. A few songs go by, all throwback style kind of stuff. Eddie even nearly catches himself singing along, and then Richie looks at him.

“We’ll camp out,” Richie says, “We’ll have to stop and get a tent, but that’s cheaper than a hotel anyway, and it’s been forever since I’ve gone camping. Is that okay with you?”

Eddie thinks of bugs, then the chill at night, then the proximity he’ll have with Richie if they’re sharing a tent. And he says yes.

Richie gets off an exit near Omaha, one where the sign promises a Walmart and an Arby’s.

“I haven’t had it since college, probably,” Richie says, “It’s the best fast food franchise, in my humble opinion.”

“I don’t like roast beef,” Eddie says, “So it’s not super high up on my list.”

“It’s not about the roast beef, Eddie, it’s about those  _ fries _ .”

Richie’s passionate about this, clearly. They eat inside and it’s one of those places that’s just obviously a stopping point for road trips. There’s a lot of families, older couples, and it has that energy where none of the customers  _ really  _ know where they are.

Eddie has to give it to Richie on the fries, but he’s not going to be caught dead saying so. They’re googling campgrounds as they eat, comparing amenities and locations like either of them know anything about camping. Eddie Kaspbrak, known outdoor oppositionist, and Richie Tozier, the definition of city boy.

“I’m just saying, if we can’t build a fire, there’s not even a point. No s’mores, no deal,” Richie says.

“Do you know how to build a fire?” Eddie asks.

“It can’t be that hard,” Richie says.

Building a fire, as it turns out, is kind of fucking hard. Eddie sets up the tent while Richie makes the first attempt, and he’s growling and swearing under his breath the entire time. Eddie thinks he’s probably being dramatic, but then he tries, and it’s a pretty disheartening experience. After maybe an hour, they finally get a spark.

The flames leap up high after a second, encouraged with a little splash of lighter fluid. Eddie screams, Richie laughs, and they rip open the bag of marshmallows. Richie also bought a pack of hot dogs, but it’s a dessert first kind of night. 

Richie’s one of those people who sets the marshmallow on fire, of course, and he’s blowing on it happily as Eddie assembles his s’more. His marshmallow, on the other hand, is perfectly toasted, not a black spot in sight.

He bites into it, and the taste is delicious and familiar.

_ “Richie, fuck, you better put that thing out,” Bill said, giving him a pointed look, “My mom will be pissed if you set the grass on fire.” _

_ They’re older here. Maybe a summer after college?  _

_ “I know what I’m doing,” Richie insisted, but blew out the marshmallow nonetheless. _

_ They were sitting on a blanket in the grass, Eddie nestled between Richie and Beverly, happily chewing away. Beverly got up to make her s’more and Richie’s hand crept up Eddie’s thigh in a way that made his heart beat fast. _

_ “Can’t wait to crawl in your sleeping bag tonight,” Richie murmured in his ear, “Ever had sex outside before?” _

_ “Richie,” Eddie hissed, glancing at their friends around the fire. No one seemed to be noticing, except maybe Stan, who was rolling his eyes a touch overdramatically, “Be quiet.” _

_ “I’m sure I’ll be the one telling you to be quiet tonight,” Richie whispered, and his hand started playing with the hem of Eddie’s shirt. He took his voice up an octave, started talking in a breathy whisper, “‘Oh, Rich, please fuck me.’” _

_ “Stop it,” Eddie said, giggling. They hadn’t seen each other in a long time, weren’t really together in the traditional sense anymore, but being home had reignited something. And after a year away, it was hotter, more desperate. Eddie had let go of some of his hangups, and Richie was more experienced. Eddie tried not to let himself think about how. _

_ “Hmm, that’s one thing I’ve never heard before. Have I told you how much I love these shorts? They make me want to lay you out and-” _

_ “Richie, stop being fucking gross, we can hear you,” Bill said finally. _

_ “Nothing you haven’t heard before, roommate of mine,” Richie cracked, and Eddie felt jealousy flare up in his stomach. _

_ “Whatever, Richie,” Mike laughed, a booming, delightful sound, “We all know you’re not getting laid. Eddie’s probably the only person who’s ever felt bad enough to sleep with you.” _

_ Richie was indignant about that, but it made Eddie feel a bit better. When Richie’s back was turned, Mike winked in his direction. Was he that obvious? _

Richie notices this time, and Eddie wishes that he didn’t, because he’s honestly a little turned on. He hadn’t given much thought to whether or not they’d been having sex, those things had never resurfaced, and the confirmation is making his head swim. Especially looking at Richie now, when his lanky body has developed into muscle and the beginnings of wrinkles make him look almost rugged.

“Remember something?” Richie asks. 

God, why did Eddie ever tell him he was remembering things too?

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “Camping with my friends. In someone’s backyard, but still. I think after freshman year of college. That was my last summer at home. Mom stopped buying me plane tickets after that.”

He’s surprised he remembers  _ these  _ things, but now it’s becoming astoundingly clear. His mom didn’t like Richie, didn’t like his other friends. Disliked them so much, apparently, that she was perfectly fine with leaving him holed up in New York year-round.

“Sounds fun,” Richie says, “Do you remember names?”

“No,” Eddie lies, because if Richie hasn’t remembered yet, he doesn’t want to tell him. 

“I have been lately,” Richie says, “I remember a Bill and a Beverly so far. Stan, now that I’m telling you. Stan was my best friend, I think.”

Eddie just keeps nibbling at his s’more, because this is all just confirming that it is Richie. He’s not inserting him into his memories, not manufacturing them. It is Richie in these flashbacks, kissing him and loving him and laughing with him.

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s happy or sad.

They stay up for a while, long enough to finish off the graham crackers and a few of the hot dogs. They crawl into the tent a little past midnight, and Richie rolls out the tent pad while Eddie fights with the zipper. He does  _ not  _ want any bugs coming in, sprayed the outside of the entrance with the strongest bug spray he could find. He thinks that that night at Bill’s house he woke up covered in ant bites. Not again.

They’re so close, despite being in different sleeping bags, and Eddie can hear Richie’s breathing in the quiet of the night. He’s close to sleep if he’s not asleep already, breaths coming even and steady. It’s a relaxing sound.

_ Eddie fumbled with the flashlight, but Richie reached over to turn it off. _

_ “Baby, I want to look at you, but if we turn that on everyone will see our shadows, and you won’t hear the end of it,” Richie said. _

_ “You’re right,” Eddie sighed. _

_ Richie leaned in afterwards, casting the flashlight aside, body a heavy weight over Eddie’s own. He liked it, how present he felt with Richie on top of him. His hands are warm on the bare skin of Eddie’s stomach, fingers splayed wide across his abs. _

_ They’d been doing this a lot, he can tell, because Richie’s hands were sure on his body, their kisses like an established pattern. He threaded a hand in Richie’s hair and pulled as Richie sucked a hickey onto his shoulder, earning a sharp exhale. _

_ “I love that,” Richie said, and he started kissing down Eddie’s body, pausing to look him over, “You are so fucking hot.” _

_ “Shut up,” Eddie said, “You’re full of shit.” _

_ “God, Eddie, I used to be obsessed with you,” Richie said, breath hot against his belly button, “And you’ve just gotten sexier since you went away, What do they feed you up there?” _

_ Eddie laughed, “Don’t be funny right now. Just fuck me.” _

_ “Oh, there we go,” Richie said, “So fucking impatient.” _

_ He shoved his hand down the front of Eddie’s shorts, and Eddie couldn’t help but gasp. _

Eddie wakes up feeling embarrassed and a little mad that the dream didn’t go any further, with Richie sitting up next to him on his phone. He hopes this wasn’t like some dumb teen movie, with him moaning his name all night or something. Richie doesn’t seem to look at him any differently, at least.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Richie says, all smiles.

Eddie wants to tell him to shut up, because hearing his voice now after hearing him say filthy things in his memory dreams is a little too much for so early in the morning, but he can’t.

“Good morning,” He grumbles instead.

“Ready to start packing it up and hitting the road?” Richie asks.

“I guess,” Eddie says, stretching his legs, “The website said there’s showers here, right?”

Richie nods, “Yeah, they’re just down a little path. I took one earlier.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Like an hour or so,” Richie shrugs, “I can’t sleep when it’s sunny. Good circadian rhythms, I guess.”

“I’ll try to be quick.” 

Eddie spends the shower, his only real alone time in a while, wishing that Richie would just realize that they were together. It was practically in another life, but they were together, and Eddie thinks that maybe they were meant to be. Considering how well they seemed to fit, coupled with the fact that after a year apart they still couldn’t keep their hands off each other, it seems like an injustice that they’d forget about what was apparently one of the most significant relationships Eddie’s ever had.

He’s fighting tears, because thinking about this is killing him. The idea that if his mom hadn’t sent him off then maybe he’d remember Richie, maybe they never would’ve split up, maybe they would’ve ended up in L.A. together without avoiding Derry like the plague.

And now here they are, together again entirely by chance. That has to mean something. He’s made up his mind by time he leaves, ready to tell Richie, but then he gets back to the campsite and everything is packed. Richie is whistling away, oblivious, and he just can’t. He doesn't want to take that moment away from him. Worse, what if Richie is embarrassed? There’s no guarantee he’s also feeling this spark, and maybe finding out would just make him uncomfortable.

They leave again without talking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is honestly one of my favorite chapters, so i hope y'all like it too!  
catch me on tumblr @trashtoziermouth  
i am LOVING y'alls comments please keep it up w your theories and such it makes me so happy!!!


	5. landing on a runway in chicago

“I decided we’d drive through Illinois instead of Iowa,” Richie says, “I think that despite my reservations about tourist activities, it’ll be fun.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie says, “The Bean?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have a hotel reserved?”

“Fortunately, I do, and I hadn’t cancelled yet. Otherwise we’d be camping in the streets.”

“How long is the drive?”

“Seven hours.”

“Swap halfway?”

“That would be helpful.”

“Only if we stop for coffee.”

Richie rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face. Eddie’s been weird this morning, and Richie’s not going to point it out, but he’d love to know why. He’d woken up in a seemingly bad mood, keeps avoiding eye contact, won’t talk to Richie more than these short little answers. He hopes that maybe the coffee will get him back to normal.

They have a long drive, and it’s going to be even longer if Eddie keeps up his vow of silence, so it better get him back to normal.

Sure enough, he gradually starts to defrost. About an hour into the drive, he addresses it.

“Sorry,” He sighs, “I know I’m being weird. I don’t know how honest to be with you about this, but I had a dream last night and it’s really messing with me, so it’s hard.”

“Aw, Eddie,” Richie jokes, “If you had a dream about me all you have to do is say so.”

Eddie laughs, but it’s hollow. Richie drops the subject because that’s a sound he never wants to hear again. Eddie doesn’t continue, either, just starts going on and on about Chicago. He sounds like a guidebook, but even that is preferable to the weird, tense silence they had on the way out of Omaha.

“What was your dream job as a kid?” Richie asks, to interrupt Eddie’s spiel about the Navy Pier. It’s one of his go-to first date questions, and it’s always a decent icebreaker.

“I wanted to be a doctor,” Eddie says.

“I could see it,” Richie says, “Paging Dr. Kaspbrak.”

“Yeah, well, I stopped liking doctors so much. Psych seemed like a good compromise. What did you want to be?”

“A rockstar, baby,” Richie says, “Like Mick Jagger.”

“And now you write for a comedy show.”

“Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t what it used to be.”

Eddie laughs, “I can’t even imagine you singing.”

“I didn’t want to sing. I played bass in high school.”

“Oh, wow. You didn’t even want to be the main guy.”

“I like playing music. I play piano and trumpet, too. And I dabble in some other stuff. Sax a little, but I don’t really like it. I’m a brass guy when it comes to wind instruments.”

“You totally just used this as a bragging opportunity.”

“Just trying to impress you,” Richie says, “Is it working?”

“I’m pretty easy to impress.”

“I wish you’d told me that earlier. I could’ve let my guard down a while ago.”

“I don’t play any instruments,” Eddie says.

“I’m sure you were too busy planning for med school.”

“I never got that far. In high school I thought I’d major in statistics. I wanted as far away from the health industry as I could get.”

“What happened?”

“I had a really good psych professor; she talked me into it. What did you major in?”

“Communications,” Richie says, “Music minor.”

“So your rockstar dreams never really died.”

“More like I got a trumpet scholarship that made my mother weep with gratitude.”

“Here we go again with the bragging.”

“Wanna fuck me yet?” Richie jokes, and he’d be lying if he said he weren’t testing the waters. He glances in Eddie’s direction, trying to gauge his reaction.

He does that hollow laugh again, which could mean a couple different things. Either he’s into it and trying to hide it, or he’s desperately wishing Richie hadn’t said it in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” Richie says, “Was that not good?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Eddie says, “It’s just...a little weird right now.”

“Why’s that?” Richie asks.

“I’m dealing with a lot,” Eddie explains, “And, um...I feel like I shouldn’t tell you this, so maybe I won’t.”

“I think you should,” Richie says, “And I think you want to, since you brought it up.”

Eddie chews on his bottom lip for a minute, takes a deep breath, and his next sentence comes out so fast it’s like a single word. Richie couldn’t decode it if he weren’t listening so intently.

“The dream I had last night was about you and it was  _ like that  _ and I feel like a total fucking weirdo now and like I’m taking advantage of you or something and I just want to let you know in case now you don’t want to sleep next to me in a bed or a tent or wherever.”

“Oh?” Richie swallows, because he doesn’t know what to do with this information at all. On one hand, it is kind of weird for Eddie to tell him about it. On the other, he’s  _ super  _ into it, and he’d love to know the details. On a third hand, now Richie feels like a creep, somehow, like he’s forced these images into Eddie’s head.

“Should I have not told you?”

“No, I mean...maybe it would be weird if I were someone else?” Richie says, finally, “But I’m not like freaked out by it.”

“I just want you to know why I’m being weird. I didn’t want you to think you’re doing anything wrong, because you’re not, I’m just having a gay crisis or whatever and it’s a lot for me.”

“I’m making you have a gay crisis?”

Eddie snorts softly, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Look, it’s not even a big deal,” Richie says, “We all have dreams about weird people, it’s not like you could control it. I had a dream about my college roommate, childhood friend. Bill, who I was talking about, and then things were weird for like a week.”

He’s rambling, trying to make Eddie feel better but still feeling like this is somehow his fault. 

“It’ll be fine, I know,” Eddie sighs, “I don’t know why I’m being so weird about it.”

_ Maybe because you want it,  _ Richie thinks, but certainly doesn’t say.

He just shrugs instead, “Just know that I don’t think any less of you.”

Eddie brightens up after this conversation, like getting it off his chest is all he really needed. Richie can’t imagine being so high-strung, honestly, and he’s just glad that something he said must have worked. But he’s all kinds of curious about this dream, about Eddie’s feelings, whether this was some random subconscious thing or if Eddie’s into him that way.

This has all been crazy, meeting Eddie and practically falling in love with him over the course of a few days. Granted, they’ve been spending literally twenty-four hours a day together, which has him feeling like it’s been longer, but still. He wants to know what’s going to happen when they’re back in Derry, whether Eddie will really stay, or if they’ll keep in touch, or if he’ll wake up again in L.A. and have forgotten everything about this.

He wants to prolong the trip just to get more time. He thinks that if this were just his vacation, with no set end date, he probably would. It’s crazy how a split second decision to pick Eddie up has completely altered his plans, maybe even his life.

The thing is, despite the short amount of time, he’s becoming pretty convinced that Eddie is supposed to be in his life. He’s never really believed in fate or soulmates or anything, but even he has to admit that the circumstances seemed to fall into place in just the right way.

Richie ruminates on this, on and off, until it’s time for them to switch. He pulls into the gas station, looks over at Eddie to say something, and he’s thrown back in time again.

_ “Slow down!” He laughed, looking out the window. _

_ Richie’s truck was rumbling over the gravel backroad, admittedly a little too fast, but he was caught up in his reactions, too busy trying to make him laugh to care.  _

_ “I think you like going fast,” Richie said, not even bothering to try and sound like he wasn’t flirting. _

_ They were older here, about nineteen. Not boyfriends, not anymore and not for a while, but Richie was still hopelessly in love with him. His heart leapt every time he heard that laugh. _

_ He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other draped casually around his shoulders. He was sitting in the middle of the bench seat, something Richie always made fun of until they started doing this. _

_ “Pull over,” He said, tugging on the bottom of Richie’s flannel, whiny and desperate. _

_ “Why?” Richie asked. He knew why. _

_ “Come on, Rich, pull over.” _

_ Richie pulled over, and they were clambering over each other, kissing and heavy breathing and he’d never been so in love, and he’d never felt so sad over losing someone.  _

Richie realizes he’s been staring at Eddie this whole time when he finds himself back in a gas station in the middle of Iowa.

“What?” Eddie asks frantically, like he’s expecting something.

“Just remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

“Driving someone around. Kissing.”

“Who?” Eddie demands.

“I can’t…” Richie huffs a sigh of frustration, because now even Eddie is getting mad at him for not being able to remember, “I can’t see his face. It’s driving me crazy. I can see everyone else, but I think he was the love of my life. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“I think it’s romantic that you still think so.”

“I mean, there’s gotta be a reason I can’t find anyone who makes me feel that way. There’s never been anyone else like that, even before I could remember all this stuff. Nothing felt right.” 

“I know what you mean,” Eddie says, sounding defeated.

They get to Chicago right before dinner time, and they try to check in a rush, so they have some time to cram as much of the city in as possible in one night. The elevator feels like it’s creeping up the shaft, and they’re running down the hallway like little kids, and when Richie finally gets the key card to work, he opens the door to a single bed.

“Fuck, I totally forgot,” He says, “Do you want to try to get another room?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I’d rather see the city.”

“You sure?”

Eddie just nods, and Richie decides to take him at his word. He’s only a little worried about it, but that’s quickly forgotten once they’re out in the streets, staring up at city lights.

“You hungry?” Richie asks. They’re passing a restaurant, dimly-lit, and the smell of spaghetti sauce is drawing him in.

“Starving,” Eddie says.

They duck in without much discussion, and Richie mentally resolves to pay for it once he gets a look at the prices. It’s not bad, not really, but he’s not sure how much money Eddie is running on for this trip. He tells the waiter right away, giving Eddie a pointed look when he starts to protest.

“You don’t have to like...take care of me,” Eddie says, flushing.

“I have money to spare,” Richie says, “I’m alone all the time, do you think I’m going out for fancy dinners?”

Eddie shrugs, “You should treat yourself.”

“Treating myself is having Chinese food delivered to my house every other night.”

Eddie just laughs.

The food is great, and Richie considers it well worth it. Eddie eats like he’s starving, and this is probably the first truly  _ good  _ meal he’s had in a while. It’s close to home cooking, and it makes Richie a little glad he’ll be home to his mom in a few days.

“I’m so full,” Eddie groans once they’re done, “I almost just want to go back to the room.”

“Come on, you know you don’t mean that.”

They walk the riverwalk, see the Bean, do all the tourist-y stuff Richie had been so opposed to a few days ago. And he’s been here before, but it’s worth experiencing it all over again to see Eddie light up. 

They finally start heading back to the hotel a little after midnight, stopping for drinks along the way. Neither of them get drunk this time, sticking to beer, and it’s just enough to suck all the weirdness between them out of the picture. It’s windy outside, like the nickname suggests, and Richie can’t wait to be in bed.

“I think this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” Eddie says when they’re about a block away, “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Richie shrugs, “Happy to be here while you experience that.”

“I mean thank you for everything,” Eddie says, “I mean it.”

Eddie stops walking, looks up at Richie, and there’s a long moment where they’re just staring at each other in the middle of the street. Someone finally jostles Richie, and it puts him back on the path to their room, walking a little faster to get there before it gets any colder.

When Richie finally crawls into bed, it’s a relief on his feet and his back and all the other parts of him that have started aching as he’s gotten older. Eddie’s on his side, maybe sleeping, but probably not. The lamp isn’t even off yet, and he’s only been there a couple minutes longer.

He tries to lay down softly, but then Eddie rolls over, and he looks at him. Really looks at him, all big brown eyes and a sort of longing there. He can’t look away, can’t bring himself to roll over and go to sleep. They hold eye contact for God knows how long, then Eddie’s staring at his lips, Richie knows how this is supposed to go.

“Richie…” Eddie says, softly, a breath of a word. He scoots closer, just the tiniest bit. It would be imperceptible if Richie weren’t paying such close attention.

“I want to kiss you,” Richie says, laughing a little, because he  _ knows  _ Eddie wants to kiss him. But he can’t just go for it.

“I want you to kiss me,” Eddie says, looking down, like he’s embarrassed.

Richie closes the gap, and God, Eddie’s  _ good  _ at this. They’re kissing, hungry and desperate, and Richie wants to go further, wants to feel all of him, wants it all, and then everything around him melts away.

_ “Richie,” He sighed, soft and longing, “I don’t want to leave.” _

_ “I don’t want you to leave,” Richie says, arms wrapped around him, holding him close. _

_ “What if I just don’t go?” _

_ “You have to go,” Richie laughed. He felt this incredible sadness, but he was so proud. _

_ “Just don’t forget me, okay?”  _

_ “I could never,” Richie promised, solemn, “Eddie, I love you.” _

_ They kissed, and it felt undeniably like it does now. _

They’re still kissing, somehow, when Richie comes back to Earth. He’s crying, he thinks, his face feels wet, but Eddie doesn’t stop. He might be crying too. Richie kisses him harder, like he’s making up for lost time. Apparently, he is.

“Did you know?” Richie murmurs, choking on his words.

“Not for long,” Eddie says, “I remembered in Colorado. When I talked about shotgunning. It was with you.”

“And your dream?”

“It wasn’t just a dream.”

“God, Eddie,” Richie laughs, shaky, “I feel like I’ve been looking for you my whole life. Do you remember what happened?”

Eddie shakes his head, “I left for school, we broke up. I came home that summer and we had a fling. My mom made me stay away after that. I don’t know why.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was making it up. I wanted to give you a chance to remember on your own. I figured it would come back in Derry, if not sooner.”

“I can’t…”

“Let’s just sleep. We can talk tomorrow during the drive,” Eddie says, sighing, “I’m exhausted. And happy. But I’m so tired.”

“Sleeping. Good.”

Eddie tentatively snuggles into his chest, and Richie drapes an arm over him, welcoming the touch. They fall asleep minutes later, breathing in sync, like no time has been lost between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: this was the hardest chapter to find a song for the title? write more pretty brooding chicago songs, someone
> 
> i'm on tumblr @trashtozier mouth! i hope some of you aren't disappointed about them both remembering, but there's still more to establish i promise!


	6. there really ain't no difference in michigan and maine

Eddie wakes up first, and in a way he’s glad, but in another it makes him terribly uncomfortable. Richie didn’t seem angry at him for not saying anything, which is good, but now they have all this stuff to talk about and he has no idea how he’s supposed to act when Richie wakes up.

He carefully extracts himself from the bed, so he doesn’t wake Richie, and lets the shower wash away the night before. He’s glad they got here, but he’d expected to suddenly remember everything if Richie got to this point. Now he doesn’t, and it’s almost more frustrating to see the past in these pieces and shards than it was to not remember it at all.

And how are they supposed to go from here? Now that they both know that once upon a time, they were in love, and now they’ve basically gotten to know each other all over again without that detail in mind.

He’s brushing his teeth when he hears Richie stirring in the room, so naturally he has to take some calming breaths before he steps back out. It’s time to face this. He’s only a little relieved that they have to do it together.

“Good morning,” Richie says, “A little scary that you weren’t in the bed. I thought maybe you’d run off.”

“I have nowhere to go,” Eddie says, “Even if I wanted to.”

“This is so weird,” Richie laughs, “Can we say that?”

“I think it’s better if we do say it.”

“Let’s get ready to go, I guess.”

They do the hotel breakfast thing, stuffing their bags underneath a table meant for two, and Richie’s foot keeps brushing his under the table. Eddie isn’t sure if it’s on purpose. It seems like they’ve regressed somehow since kissing, like they’re  _ less  _ familiar with each other after discovering how familiar they really are.

“Where are we going?” Eddie asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Michigan, camping somewhere near some waterfalls.”

They go through a Starbucks drive through, as has become their routine, and once they’re back on the highway, Richie breaks.

“We’ve gotta talk about it,” Richie says, “I know it’s weird, and there’s not exactly guidelines for this, but we have to figure it out.”

“Maybe we can just date like normal people.”

“I think we’re past that,” Richie laughs, “So, I have some questions.”

“I thought you might.”

“Is that the only reason you kissed me?”

“No,” Eddie says without hesitation, “Not at all. I was kind of into you before that. It definitely sped things along, because I normally wouldn’t try jumping into something like this, but knowing that we’ve been together before made it easier for me.”

“Do you remember everyone else?”

“Yes. That’s how I knew that I was remembering real stuff with you, because you started calling them by name and they were the same ones.”

“Do you...want this to go somewhere? With us.”

“I think so,” Eddie says, “I mean...I never met anyone else. That has to mean something.”

“So, here on out, you remember anything, you tell me. And I’ll tell you. Sound good?” 

Eddie swallows, thinking of the sex dreams, and thinks this might be the most embarrassing thing in the world. But maybe necessary. He nods in the end.

“And this,” Richie says, motioning between them with his hands, “Us. We’ll figure that out as we go.”

“Yes,” Eddie agrees, unsure of what else there is to say.

“Great,” Richie says, “Really good.”

Richie pulls off onto the next exit, and Eddie gives him a questioning look.

Richie keeps his eyes trained on the ramp, “Now that we’ve got all that figured out, I’d really like to kiss you again.”

And he does.

They’ve been back on the road for about an hour, and Eddie’s laughing hard as Richie fills him in on some of the college stuff he missed out on. He’s in the middle of a story about fist-fighting with Bill over a spot in a competitive course cross-listed between com and English when Eddie remembers.

“Wait, oh my God,” Eddie says, breathless, “You told me you had a dream about Bill, like a  _ dream.  _ What the fuck?”

“I hoped you’d forgotten about that after we established it was the same Bill,” Richie groans, “You know, everyone loves Bill.”

“I used to have a crush on Bill,” Eddie says, almost mindlessly, “When we were  _ really  _ young. Like middle school.”

“Then you’d think you’d leave me alone about my dream,” Richie says, “Why don’t we talk about  _ your  _ dream?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a dream, it was a memory,” Eddie mumbles.

“Well, that’s just more reason to talk about it.”

“We were camping in Bill’s backyard and it was the summer after freshman year of college.”

“You already told me all that.”

“That’s basically it.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“We had sex in the tent, or at least that seemed like the direction it was heading in. I woke up before we got there.”

“Were we dating?”

“No. I think we broke up during freshman year. We were having a thing.”

“A thing?”

“It’s a very scientific term for being in love with each other but ignoring it and just having sex and engaging in date-like activities but acting like everything’s fine,” Eddie says, “Come on. Keep up.”

“Oh, right. A thing,” Richie laughs, “You know, we’ll be in a tent again tonight.”

“I’m too old to be having sex in a tent,” Eddie says, and he feels his face flush. He can’t believe they’re being so blunt about this, and he can’t believe his own boldness. Richie brings out this new side of him, one that isn’t so afraid. He hopes he always felt like this before.

“Haven’t you heard that saying? You’re never too old for tent sex.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks, rolling his eyes, “Who said that?”

“Richie Tozier.”

“Sounds like a total pervert, if you ask me.”

Richie reaches out and takes his hand. Eddie smiles to himself.

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Richie says pointedly, “As I was saying, we were  _ running  _ to the registrar’s office, and Bill is taller than me, so he was ahead. So I yanked his shirt back and he fell, God, it was so fucking funny. But he grabbed my ankle as he was going down and then we’re  _ both  _ in the grass…”

Richie carries on and Eddie can’t stop smiling. There’s this person, ridiculous and kind (except, apparently, when it comes to course registration) and they used to be together. It makes Eddie feel better about himself, somehow, like if he’s the kind of person who attracts someone so enigmatic, maybe he’s not so terrible after all.

“So then the registrar is like, ‘Well, who’s it gonna be?’ and Bill looked at me and I looked at him and I was like, ‘Well, why don’t we just both not take it?’ And then…”

“Richie you didn’t,” Eddie gasps.

“If the fight we had on that hill in front of the registrar’s office was bad, the one we had after he found out I lied was even  _ worse, _ ” Richie laughs, “God, I hope he’s still in Derry. I’d love to see him again.”

“Why did you guys stop talking?” Eddie asks.

Richie is quiet for a minute, like he’s thinking, “I don’t know. I guess after college I moved off right away, I had this internship that I was super excited about and I took off to L.A. and I got so busy that I didn’t really have time for anyone.”

“Must have been lonely.”

“Eddie, I am not exaggerating at all when I say that since then, this is probably the most time I’ve spent with any one person,” Richie says, “It sucks because I  _ love  _ people, but I just haven’t been able to get close with anyone in the city. I’m always working.”

“Do you like the people you work with?”

“I guess. It’s just rough, kinda go-go-go all the time since we’re always trying to put out more stuff. I love it, though, like don’t mistake this for me being unhappy. It makes me so crazy happy because I’m doing basically what I’ve always wanted to do, you know? Like making people laugh, and I’m not even having to do the hustle thing anymore, and by the end of it I probably  _ could  _ get into stand-up or acting or whatever. I’ve opened so many doors. But my relationships have really suffered.”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, “I’m sorry.”

“It probably sound so whiny to you. Like oh poor me, I’m so successful,” Richie laughs, rolling his eyes, “I’m such an idiot.”

“I think life is hard for everyone,” Eddie says, “Even if you’re successful.”

Conversation wains as they enter Michigan, so Richie just turns up the radio. All the songs are about love and Eddie wonders if it’s a coincidence. It probably is, but he can engage in wishful thinking if he desires.

They find a good spot to set up fairly close to this waterfall area, and the sound of rushing water has an instant calming effect. They’d stopped for food and supplies on the way in, and so far, things are going much smoother than their setup at the first campsite. It only takes Eddie two tries to set up the tent, and Richie has a fire going in under an hour.

“Maybe we should just live off the grid,” Richie says, “Go out in the woods and never come back.”

“I’m sure that would go really well,” Eddie says, “Considering that a few days ago we’d never made a fire in our lives. Everyone knows you go straight from designated campsites with full amenities to living off the land.”

“It can’t be that hard,” Richie says, “Don’t you think we have some sort of instinct for it?”

“Maybe we would if we hadn’t been raised in the world of privilege and technology,” Eddie says, “But all things considered, I think we’d be fucked.”

“I don’t appreciate your cynicism,” Richie says.

“Maybe I don’t appreciate your optimism,” Eddie says back, prodding at the fire with a long stick, maintaining his distance.

Eddie joins him on a blanket they have spread out between the tent and the fire, flopping down onto his stomach. He kicks his legs up in the air, chin in his hands, and it’s like they’re eighteen again. When Eddie remembers this time, it seems different. Vivid colors, clarity, nothing like ever before.

_ “Daydreaming about our wedding?” Richie teased. _

_ Eddie was splayed out just like this in the bed of Richie’s truck, and it must’ve been fall. There’s a cool breeze in the air, and Eddie’s in a shorts-hoodie combo that wouldn’t make sense any other time of the year. _

_ “Shut up,” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing red, “Who says I want to marry you?” _

_ Richie looked hurt so Eddie sat up, dropping the teasing smile on his face and taking on something more serious. _

_ “Richie…” Eddie said, “I don’t know.” _

_ He wanted to reassure him, to talk about their eventual wedding, but it felt wrong. After months of awkward silences over the phone, Eddie’s pointed jealousy at new couples blooming up on campus, Richie’s talk of new friends and how much he loved college and Eddie’s silent resentment, after all that, this seemed wrong. He should have been happy, on a truck bed picnic with Thanksgiving leftovers on the only sunny day in November with a boy he was in love with. But he can’t be, because it feels sour somehow. _

_ “What?” Richie asked, like he was totally blindsided, “What do you mean you don’t know? What were you going to say?” _

_ “I was going to say that of course I want to marry you, and I do, I think.” _

_ “You think.” _

_ “I think I want to marry you, but this doesn’t feel...right to me. With me far away and everyone else still here, it feels like we’re just delaying the inevitable or something.” _

_ “What do you mean by the inevitable?” _

_ “I mean I think we’re fooling ourselves. We barely talk when we’re at school because we’re so busy, and all I do is sit around being miserable over you, and I hate it.” _

_ “What are you trying to say?” Eddie heard the tears in Richie’s voice, thick and unpleasant. _

_ “I think we should stop while we’re ahead,” Eddie said, looking down, “Before we really get hurt.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I’m not happy. You’re not happy. I think we’d both be happier if we end this for now. I would say take a break, but it’s a dick move, and I don’t think we can do this right now.” _

_ “Okay,” Richie said, his voice soft and broken.  _

_ Eddie’s heart breaks for him, hearing him so vulnerable. Eddie had always thought that Richie would take this harder, but it hurts him so much to see him proven right. It hurts him so much to hurt Richie after everything they’ve been through, after so many other people have hurt Richie. But he’d be hurting him more if he kept pretending. _

“Hey,” Richie now says, snapping his fingers, “What’s going on in there?”

Richie clearly expects some sickly-sweet memory of teenage romance. Eddie considers lying, making something up, but he doesn’t want to do that in the early days of their... relationship? Whatever this is. 

“I think I just remembered us breaking up,” Eddie says, trying to gauge Richie’s reaction as he goes, “Thanksgiving break, freshman year of college.”

“Did you break up with me?” Richie asks, and the hurt is fresh on his face. He’s remembering too. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly, “But I think...I needed to.”

“Everything had to happen a certain way for us to get here, I guess,” Richie says, “And it’s good we’re here now but...ouch. It hurts a little still.”

Richie laughs, but Eddie can hear the sadness in it, the humorless undertone.

“I’m sorry I did it like that.”

“It had to be done,” Richie shrugs, “It explains a lot about what happened after that. My whole spiral at school. Heartbreak-induced.”

They sit there for a minute, quietly, reflecting on new information. Eddie had known that they broke up, because otherwise the summer after wouldn’t have made any sense, but he hadn’t realized it had been so one-sided. 

“We’re not…” Richie’s hesitant, and that’s new. It makes Eddie nervous. “We’re not just like fucking around here, right? Like we’re not just road trip friends with benefits or whatever, and you’re not going to leave me once we get where we’re going?”

“No.” Eddie says, “I can’t. I can’t do that again.”

“Okay. You know I’m not staying in Derry, right? I can’t be there.”

Eddie can hear the panic, the dread, and he sighs.

“I don’t want to stay there either. It was a sort of last option for me. But new options have opened up. Or at least it seems like they have.”

“You’ll stay in L.A.?”

“I’ll stay close to L.A.” Eddie says, “Maybe if I find a job I could be persuaded to love the city.”

“That works,” Richie says, “For now, that works.”

They head to bed shortly after that, emotionally exhausted and maybe a little bored. Camping isn’t exactly rife with activities, and Eddie feels drained from their conversation. He’s not upset, exactly, but it changes things. Richie’s cautious now, in a way he wasn’t before, and Eddie doesn’t want him tiptoeing around.

They’re laying side by side, and Eddie pulls him close, because he can’t let them go to sleep without really resolving this. He kisses Richie this time, and it feels so good to be able to initiate it without overthinking, feels so good for Richie to respond without any hesitation.

And now that he’s adjusted to the idea that they kiss now, his mind can wander elsewhere. He can think beyond the initial shock, feel the weight of Richie’s hands on his waist, lose himself completely in the moment and simultaneously feel all of it.

He surprises himself a little with his own aggression, this need to touch and be touched, and he’s trying to go further, pushing his hips against Richie’s, feeling this sort of agonized pleasure when they make contact. Like it’s good but he needs so much more.

Richie surprises him even more when he pulls away.

“I don’t want to do this right now,” Richie whispers, “Eddie, I need you to understand how badly I want you, but I can’t after we had that weird moment earlier.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Richie laughs, “Besides, you’re too old to have sex in a tent.”

Eddie doesn’t feel dejected or angry or even upset. He knows Richie is right, knows this isn’t the right moment for this. And all he can really feel is gratitude that they’re on the same page and that it’s so easy to handle the difficult parts of this. Which is so important in a situation like this, where everything is so unique and, as a consequence, a little difficult.

And nothing seems to hurt anymore when he’s falling asleep in Richie’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're approaching the end (sort of) here. the chapter count may change (get lower) due to my basic misunderstandings of U.S. geography.
> 
> come chat with me @trashtoziermouth on tumblr or leave a comment here!!!


	7. i've been praying ever since new york

“Where next?” Eddie asks while Richie’s still blinking awake, like he’s never heard of wanting quiet in the morning. He looks excited, already showered, and it’s such a drastic change from the night before that Richie thinks he might have whiplash.

“New York,” He grumbles, quiet, trying to turn back over and sleep a little longer. It has to be, like, six in the morning. He wouldn’t feel so bad if it were any later.

“What?” Eddie shrieks, “You didn’t tell me we were going to New York!”

“It’s kind of on the way,” Richie says, and he gives up hope on sleeping any longer, especially now that Eddie’s probably woken up half the campsite. 

“God, I haven’t been since college. I can show you all the best places!”

“I’ve been before.”

“Then let me give you the non-tourist experience.”

“Fine,” Richie says, like he had any extravagant New York plans that Eddie is interrupting.

“I’ll drive,” Eddie says, and Richie can’t say he’s not relieved. 

Eddie stops for coffee somewhere local for once, and he scoffs and fusses over the menu for nearly fifteen minutes before he decides on something. Despite his indecisiveness, though, he seems to be in a good mood. Richie even branches out from his usual thing, gets an iced latte, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t good.

So the mood of the day is already eons lighter than last night, and Richie has done some reflecting and forgiven Eddie for something he did so long ago, that he shouldn’t have really been upset about in the first place. As he laid there, Eddie sleeping next to him, he’d remembered how badly they were doing long distance leading up to the breakup.

_ Richie was fresh out of a chemistry lab, a gen ed where making friends is the easiest because you’re in a class no one wants to take, falling in step with his lab partner and joking about the professor’s tendency to snort when inhaling.  _

_ His phone rang, Eddie’s name, and he surprised even himself when he thought about ignoring it. He shook it off, mentally chastising himself, and picked up, waving the girl away. _

_ “Bye, Richie!” She said, doing that hair-tucking thing girls do, “See you Thursday!” _

_ He mouthed goodbye, then turned his attention to Eddie, who was already sniffling on the phone. _

_ “I’m sorry I call so much,” Eddie apologized, before even a hello. A bad sign. _

_ “Eds, you know it’s always okay to call,” Richie said. _

_ “I’m just having a hard day.” _

_ Eddie had had nothing but hard days the last couple of weeks. Richie tried hard to have sympathy, when he and all their friends were at the same school and he had a built-in group to fall back on, but it was difficult to relate. He was already having the time of his life, and it was clear this was an environment he was meant for. He and Bill were deciding whether or not to rush a frat, he finally felt challenged in classes, and this was clearly where he began to thrive. _

_ Eddie was not thriving, to put it simply. _

_ “I’m sorry,” Richie said, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Giving him advice just seemed to make him more upset, because Eddie and Richie are so different, Richie’s techniques wouldn’t work for Eddie. It’s complicated. _

_ “My roommate totally ignored me this morning,” Eddie said, “And then I forgot to write this essay...do you ever think about dropping out?” _

_ “You’re not dropping out.” Richie said bluntly, not even entertaining the idea.  _

_ “I know I’m not, but...don’t you think about it?” _

_ Richie wanted to make him feel better, but the answer was no. He hadn’t, especially not when they were only a few weeks in, and when he finally felt like he fit in beyond their little group.  _

_ “I haven’t really,” He said, finally, “But I think I get why you would.” _

_ “Okay,” Eddie said, and Richie could hear the tears, but Eddie clearly didn’t want to talk about it anymore, “I’ll let you go, I need to go to the library.” _

_ “Love you,” Richie said, but Eddie had already hung up. _

Any any will totally forgiven, because maybe Eddie broke up with him, but Richie didn’t do a whole lot to prevent it. Not to mention the fact that it’s been years since then, and they’re no longer right out of high school, so it would be ridiculous of him to hold that grudge.

Especially when he figures they must have forgiven each other already, must have had this talk a long time ago. He squints, trying to will himself back in time, to remember how they handled it the summer they both came home from school, when they seemed happiest.

“Do you remember how we ended up getting back together that summer?” Richie asks once his attempts to will himself into remembering prove futile.

“No,” Eddie says, “And I don’t think we really got back together, I think we were just messing around.”

“You know what I mean,” Richie says, “Sorry I got weird last night. I hadn’t thought about the fact that if we were dating, we must have broken up.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like there’s rules for this kind of thing,” Eddie says, “I’m sure if you’d broken up with me I would be just as weird about it.”

“I just wish I could remember us resolving it, because then I think I’d be less weird about it overall. I know I changed a lot that year, especially after we stopped dating. Can you tell I have some abandonment issues?” Richie cracks a smile, trying to make it into a joke, but Eddie gives him this look.

“Don’t make your feelings into a joke, either. I don’t give a fuck if we were six when it happened, it still matters in the context of this relationship, especially considering the special circumstances. You forgot that that happened before you had time to process it, so of course you’re still a little upset. You haven’t had time to heal. And we’re still figuring out this whole thing, like are we still the same people we were back then, and dealing with past issues is part of that.”

“Talk psychology to me, baby.”

“Psychology can’t even help me now, considering this is very much uncharted territory. I wish it happened to someone else so I could make a study out of it. But since it’s me I feel like that might be unethical.”

“All the other psychologists will be so jealous that you can’t remember your entire adolescence.”

“Of course they will,” Eddie says, “I basically had amnesia until like two days ago, and now I’m suddenly remembering things I haven’t thought about in years? Cases like this don’t come around very often. Not ones without cause.”

“Without cause?”

“Like, without any kind of traumatic event to trigger the memory loss. It seems like for some reason we just forgot.”

“Or we just don’t remember the traumatic event yet.”

Eddie looks a little frightened at the suggestion. “Or that.”

Richie makes a concerted effort to lighten up after that.

The city is stunning. He expected something more like L.A., but it’s entirely its own, looming buildings and buzzing with a different kind of people. Richie isn’t even bothered by the traffic, because it’s giving him more time to look.

“You should see it in the winter time,” Eddie says, noticing Richie’s stunned expression, “The cold does something beautiful here, and everything is crisp, God...as much as I hated being shipped off from you guys, I loved it here. I think I might even miss it.”

“Really?” Richie asks, “So college got better?”

“College got amazing,” Eddie says, “Like I said, I had a really awesome professor. I became a research assistant, made lots of friends in my field, and I wasn’t exactly unpopular with boys or anything.”

He’s blushing, and Richie raises his eyebrows. “How’d you end up married, then?”

“Pressure from mom,” Eddie says, “And I hadn’t found my person yet by the end of college, so I convinced myself very briefly that maybe I wasn’t into guys, like, romantically. Like it was just a sex thing. Not true, and very silly of me to think.”

“We’ve all been there.”

“Really?”

“No, but I thought it might make you feel better.”

Eddie laughs, and turns down onto a side street, “You booked a good hotel. Not super expensive, but not like...disgusting.”

“I talked to some of my coworkers, a lot of them split their time between cities,” Richie explains, “So they had some good recommendations.”

“This is always where my family stayed when they visited,” Eddie says.

“Will that be weird for you?”

“No, I only saw it in passing. We usually spent most of our time on campus or out doing stuff. Mom was a lot more interested in seeing my college life than she was spending time in her hotel room. Seeing the kind of people who would wave at me, the bulletin boards in the dorms, you know. Scouting out my surroundings,” Eddie says, “But my mom wouldn’t have stayed just anywhere. At the very least, I promise you this place is clean.”

_ “I can’t come; I’m grounded,” Eddie said, voice soft over the phone. _

_ “You’re nineteen. How are you still getting grounded?” Richie groaned. _

_ “It’s called respecting my mother, Richard.” _

_ Richie could hear the contempt in his voice, but he knew it wasn’t directed at him. _

_ “How did you get grounded?” _

_ “This is so fucking stupid, I don’t even….whatever, one of my roommate’s mugs ended up in my stuff and my mom was helping me unpack and she found it. She thinks I’ve probably got some kind of STD.” _

_ “Do you?” _

_ “Fuck you,” Eddie huffed, but he was laughing too, “What are you guys doing?” _

_ “Party at Mike’s. I’m not naming names but someone’s bringing weed.” _

_ “Is it you?” _

_ “Beverly. Which means she got it from her crazy aunt, which means it’s good shit. Does that change your mind?” _

_ “If anything, it makes me understand why my mother is still grounding me at nineteen.” _

_ “Come on, Eds, you know you can sneak out.” _

_ “Fuck it, fine. Where are you?” _

_ “Sitting a block down from your house,” Richie smiled. Eddie was so predictable, even after a year away. Grumbling and groaning about how stupid their plans are but wanting to be a part of it anyway. Playing the part of the good kid but climbing out his window and sliding down a storm drain to hop in Richie’s truck. _

_ They hadn’t seen each other yet. It was a week into the summer, and Eddie had been grounded, apparently. Richie assumed he just wasn’t talking to anyone anymore. But now Eddie was on his way, and Richie glanced at the rearview mirror, trying to get a glimpse of himself to make sure he looked okay. _

_ Eddie was there before Richie could prepare for it, if he ever could, and he was looking better than ever. A little taller, a more sophisticated haircut, and a renewed sense of confidence. Richie could tell by the way he was walking, this was not timid, friendless Eddie who broke up with him over Thanksgiving. _

_ “Hey,” Eddie said. _

_ “Hey,” Richie said back, the word coming out just as breathless as he felt. _

“You were grounded at the beginning of the summer when we came home from college,” Richie says.

“And?” Eddie asks.

“That’s all I’ve got,” Richie says, “But you did sneak out to come to Mike’s with us.”

“We always went to Mike’s when we were doing something we could get in trouble for,” Eddie says, squinting like he’s remembering as he talks, “Why?”

“They had a barn,” Richie says, “Because his parents used to run a farm, but they stopped keeping animals before we were older and they converted it to a guesthouse. And Mike’s parents trusted him.”

“Yours didn’t?”

“I don’t think they trusted me, but I think they wanted to let me make my own mistakes,” Richie says, “That’s what my mom says now, anyway. I turned out alright, so I don’t think they regret anything.”

“I can’t ever really figure out if it’s me my mom doesn’t trust or if it’s the world,” Eddie says, “As you could probably tell from your recently recovered memory. Why’d I get grounded?”

“Your roommate’s mug?”

“Oh, fuck, I remember that one,” Eddie sighs, “Brutal. I was grounded for like two weeks. I don’t even think I drank out of that mug, I think I just accidentally packed it.”

_ “I didn’t even drink out of it,” Eddie explained, rosy-faced and a little tipsy, “What kind of bullshit is that?” _

_ “You’d think she’d loosen up a little after you’ve been away for a year,” Bev hummed, combing her fingers through Eddie’s hair. _

_ Eddie’s new, sexy hair. Richie felt out of control, like a whole year of seeing other people hadn’t prepared him for Eddie post-haircut and a growth spurt. Fucking ridiculous. _

_ “Of course not,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “If anything, she’s worse. Like she’s all pent-up from not getting to snip at me all year long.” _

_ “Snip?” Richie asked, teasing, “Please look up ‘snip’ in the dictionary, Stanley.” _

_ “I’m not participating in your flirting,” Stan said, getting up from their circle and heading into the kitchenette area to pour another drink. _

_ “I’m not even...flirting,” Richie said. _

_ “Yeah, Stan, is it flirting if it’s poorly done?” Bill asked, and Richie shoved him in response. He tipped over dramatically, remaining splayed out on the floor. _

_ “You know what I mean,” Eddie grumbled, finally. His flush had become impossibly deeper, “Give me another drink.” _

_ “You’re cut off,” Mike said, “Everyone’s cut off, as far as I’m concerned. No one’s going to be moping around here in the morning because they can’t handle a hangover.” _

_ “Well, we’ve gotta get out of here bright and early in the morning anyway,” Richie said, “Gotta get Eddie Bear home before the sunrise.” _

“I think I’m getting close to us getting back together that summer,” Richie says, “This seems to be heading in that direction.”

“If only you could speed this up,” Eddie says, “So you know I don’t hate you.”

Richie snorts. Eddie’s parked the car, and he’s getting out. He hoists his bag over his shoulder and Richie clambers out behind him.

“Where’s the hotel?”

“A short walk away,” Eddie says, “Welcome to New York.”

Eddie takes him to this deli first, once they’ve settled in with their stuff, and when they go in it looks like a grocery store inside. Tables are scattered randomly around the room, and the only drinks in sight are in a cooler in the corner.

“I know this sounds crazy, but this place has the  _ best  _ spaghetti i’ve ever had in my life,” Eddie says, “I can’t vouch for the real deli food, though.”

Richie orders spaghetti off Eddie’s recommendation, and he’s surprised when the total comes in at under $20 for the both of them.

“I thought city living was expensive,” Richie says.

“It is if you don’t know where to eat.”

They eat in silence, mostly because the food  _ is  _ amazing, far better than deli spaghetti has any business being. Richie is a little stressed that he doesn’t know the plan, but Eddie seems more at ease than he has the whole trip, so it’s comforting in a way. They’ve really been winging it the whole time, but now Eddie’s in more familiar territory, and he seems to be enjoying it.

“Tell me more about college,” Richie says, “You’ve heard all my stories.”

“Yeah, but our friends were there,” Eddie says, “Mine won’t be that interesting.”

“Whatever, yeah they will. I want to know more about you. Tell me why you love the city.”

“Well, first things first, the best pizza in the country. People say it’s Chicago, people say it’s L.A., it’s bullshit. New York has the best pizza, and that’s basically a staple food group as a college student. There’s always something going on, you get discounted Broadway tickets, it’s the best.”

“Well, at UMaine, we all stuffed ourselves into one dorm room and got higher than we thought humanly possible, so...beat that.”

“Parties are unreal here, like, insane. Because you’ve got lots of rich Upper East Side kids, like some real Gossip Girl kinda bullshit. Then there’s artsy, LSD types. A million people, small spaces, wild shit goes on. It blows my mind that my mom sent me to NYU to try and get me away from the real world,” Eddie laughs, “If anything, being here showed me what the real world is like. I conquered fears on the daily and it was all really empowering.”

“God, shut up about what a good time you had,” Richie laughs, “That’s crazy. You were so miserable when we talked about it back then.”

“After we all separated for good, it got easier. I didn’t have anything to miss. I made friends here, got involved in the queer scene, and I was really good at school on top of it all. This was...home,” Eddie sighs, dreamy, “It’s probably the only place I’ve ever felt like I  _ really  _ belonged. Besides when I was with you guys, I mean.”

_ “You know when I’m with you, I feel like myself,” Eddie said, and Richie’s heart broke all over again, “I don’t feel like I need to be afraid.” _

_ “What is there to be afraid of?” Richie asked. _

_ They were sharing Mike’s futon, a space that would have been uncomfortable if Richie hadn’t craved this closeness so badly. Eddie was still a little drunk, not incoherent, but drunk enough to be spilling his innermost thoughts and feelings. Richie was completely sober, whatever high he had earlier in the night gone, and really just waiting around until morning to take Eddie home. _

_ “Loneliness,” Eddie said, “Having no friends. Annoying everyone around me. Failure. Never finding love.” _

_ “None of those things are going to happen to you,” Richie said, “You’re too good.” _

_ “No, Richie Tozier, you’re too good,” Eddie laughed sadly. His hand cradled Richie’s cheek, “Comforting your drunk ex-boyfriend after the most abrupt breakup of all time.” _

_ “Probably not the most abrupt,” Richie said, surprised by his own ability to joke about the situation that left him sobbing in his room for weeks under a year ago, “There’s been more brutal breakups, I’m sure.” _

_ “I’m sorry,” Eddie said softly. _

_ “You’re drunk.” _

_ “That doesn’t mean I don’t mean it. And I’m hardly drunk anymore. I can do that finger-nose trick if you want.” _

_ “If you do that right now you’ll probably whack me in the face, so please refrain.” _

_ “Richie,” Eddie hummed quietly, not continuing for something like a full minute, “I wish I could kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “I don’t want to hurt you.” _

_ “What if I want you to hurt me?” Richie asked, because he would let Eddie hurt him again and again if it meant the chance to be with him, even for a split second. _

_ “And I’m drunk.” _

_ “You admit it now that it suits you. Kiss me in the morning if you still feel like it.” _

_ “We’ll see.” Eddie murmured, finally falling asleep. _

_ Richie didn’t sleep a wink. _

“You said you wanted to kiss me,” Richie says, “But that you didn’t want to hurt me.”

“Did I kiss you?”

“No. You were drunk and I told you not to. I don’t think it’s over, though.”

“God, can we finish this?”

“Sorry, it’s not like there’s a fast forward button.”

Eddie drags him around the NYU campus after lunch, giving him a tour of his college experience, and Richie enjoys it immensely. It’s good to hear that Eddie turned out happy, at least for a little while. He shows him academic buildings and where he lived, they even duck into the library where Eddie leads him back to a little study nook he says was his favorite, whispering to avoid disturbing the summer students spread out throughout the stacks.

“I think I came to visit once,” Eddie says, “You guys, I mean. Before my mom stopped letting me take my car.”

“Sounds like it might be right,” Richie says, “Maybe Labor Day?”

“Labor Day!” Eddie says, snapping his fingers, “I bet that was it.”

“And I was so happy you were there,” Richie says, faux-wistfully, “If only I’d known you’d break my heart just months later.”

“Shut up,” Eddie huffs, laughing, “Your turnaround from angst to humor is impressive.”

“I’m a comedian, my whole job is making my life into a joke.”

“Well, you’ll have a wealth of material now.”

“Oh yeah, my next stand-up set will kill,” Richie snorts, “‘You think forgetting your anniversary is bad? Try forgetting your entire first love until you pick him up from the side of the road!”

“Talk about a roadside attraction,” Eddie mumbles, and Richie knows it’s not the best joke, but it seems so much funnier in this moment. 

“Jesus Christ,” He groans once he’s done laughing, “You like puns?”

“Who doesn’t?” Eddie says, a happy little smile on his face.

_ Eddie was smiling, days later, when he walked out of his house in mid-daylight to Richie’s waiting truck. He threw his arms up in the air, like he’d won something, and hopped in with a renewed spring in his step. _

_ “Guess who is officially ungrounded?” _

_ “What’d you have to do?” Richie asked. _

_ “I offered to pick up groceries because mom is terrified of the ClickList people, but God forbid she go into the grocery store herself,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, “But now I’m free, so let’s all get fucking trashed.” _

_ “‘Trashed?’” Richie asked, bewildered, “Who are you and what have you done with Eddie Kaspbrak?” _

_ They didn’t get “trashed” that night, and instead found themselves on the roof of Richie’s house at three in the morning, the rest of the losers sleeping peacefully in his bedroom. They’d always stayed up the latest, which is probably how they ended up so close in the first place. _

_ Richie was smoking, a rare vice of his, but it seemed right in the moment, watching it drift into the sky and disappear among the stars. Eddie watched too, transfixed, and their hands were so close to touching that it hurt Richie to think about it. _

_ “What are we doing?” He asked, finally, once Eddie’s palm settled on top of his, skin soft and tempting and familiar. _

_ “I don’t know,” Eddie said, “Don’t you feel like we should be doing it, though?” _

_ Richie sighed, “Maybe.” _

_ “I don’t want to call it anything because I don’t think we can keep doing it when we’re back at school. I don’t want to fuck it up by making it too much, you know what I mean?” _

_ The words died on Richie’s tongue as Eddie spoke: I think we’re meant to be together. _

_ “Yeah,” Richie said, “Yeah. I get it.” _

_ “I mean, don’t you have like a billion girlfriends or something anyway?” _

_ “Not just girlfriends,” Richie snorted, trying to hide the hurt. He was maybe getting too full of himself, sleeping around too much, but he would’ve given it all up for Eddie back then, “Thank you very much.” _

_ “Boo,” Eddie said, dropping the seriousness and shifting gears into something a lot flirtier. He swung his leg over Richie’s lap, settling in on top of him and leaning in for a kiss. Richie, unable to resist and too content to deal with the hurt later, reciprocated.  _

_ His phone buzzed when he had Eddie laid flat against the roof, face buried in his neck, huffing breaths between frenzied kisses. _

_ MA: Richard Tozier you better get off that roof this second. Susan from next door has called me threatening to call the police. Don’t make me come outside and see what kind of “salacious act” she referenced during our conversation. _

_ Richie just laughed, and they ducked back through the window, conversation forgotten. _

“Very anticlimactic,” Eddie says once Richie’s explained, “Uninspired.”

“I guess we never really had that emotional, groundbreaking talk about our relationship. I expected more.”

“We were only nineteen.”

“I knew I loved you then, though,” Richie says, “I knew you were the one.”

“No you didn’t,” Eddie scoffs.

“I did,” Richie argues, “I always knew.”

They’re sitting in Central Park, watching birds and people and fountains. They grabbed dinner from some burger place, and they’re just biding the little time they have left in the city. Richie thinks he could love New York, and Eddie already looks head over heels.

“Where next?” Eddie asks. 

“Boston,” Richie says, “Then Derry. Originally, I was going to stop one more time, but I think we need to get this over with. And we clearly have some remembering and explaining to do. So...one more day of this.”

“I know I’ve said this a million times, but this has been so good for me,” Eddie says, “Not just because of you. A chance to explore, to remember, to be young again.”

“We’re still young,” Richie says, “Not even thirty.”

“I’ve never felt young, but I definitely don’t feel young now. A divorce, a lost love, like...how could you fit all this in before forty?”

“You’re clearly a special case. Something happened to make it this way. I can feel it in the back of my mind, like having a word on the tip of my tongue.”

Richie doesn’t mention that he feels it looming larger as they get closer to Derry, because Eddie seems like a man of science, and he doesn’t want to sound insane. But it’s true, this darkness just needles at him, veiled behind all these other memories.

When he sleeps that night, they pour in like a floodgate, everything but the one he can’t seem to reach. He remembers taking Eddie on his first real date, remembers halftime at football games where they watched Ben play and Mike in the marching band, remembers a play with Beverly and Bill as the lead roles, crying in the audience. He remembers losing his virginity, in vivid color and detail, for the first time in his life. 

Eddie tosses and turns next to him all night, and Richie wonders if he’s experiencing something similar. He makes a note to ask in the morning, but for now all he can do is bring him in closer to his chest and try his hardest to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very sorry for the delay, i have two policy briefs coming at me soon, and i'm trying to stay on top of them! one day i'll graduate and i can write all the fanfic i want  
i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth


	8. i need to feel the boston peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there's what is probably the mildest smut ever written in this chapter. it's totally skippable also, if you're not into it.

“Something weird happened last night,” Richie says as soon as Eddie blinks awake, hardly giving him time to even realize they’ve reached another day.

Eddie looks around the room. Richie’s bags are already packed, and he’s dressed and showered, which is unusual for so early.

“Good morning to you too,” Eddie says, rubbing his eyes. Maybe he’s still asleep.

“I remembered like...almost everything,” Richie says, “Probably the amount normal people remember.”

“Anything stick out?”

“No, but there’s something I can’t remember, and I can feel it there.”

“Strange. Maybe it’ll come in time, like the other ones?”

“I thought maybe you remembered everything too?” 

Eddie thinks, hard, but there’s still lapses. He can’t remember learning to drive. He doesn’t know if he took the SAT or the ACT. His high school graduation eludes him, aside from Stan giving the valedictorian speech, followed closely by Mike as class president. Junior prom is there, but senior prom has yet to make an appearance.

“I don’t,” Eddie says, “Maybe you can jog my memory.”

“It’s going to be kind of hard to tell you everything,” Richie says.

“Well, we have a four hour drive to get through what we can,” Eddie says, “And I have questions.”

“Did we go to prom together senior year?” Eddie asks, “I know we didn’t junior year, I remember a little of that one.”

“Yes,” Richie says, “We went to dinner with everyone else but you were my date. I remember my mom taking pictures in front of our house.”

“What a relief. Did we dance?”

“All night long,” Richie says, “And you were really good. I wasn’t, but I had a good time. The only slow song they played was The Only Exception, which was a solid choice. Born This Way had, like, just come out. Life was good.”

“Wow,” Eddie says, “I’m so glad Lady Gaga established gay rights right before we went to prom together.”

Richie shrugs, “I think everybody knew. I’m sure by then they had come to terms with it. I don’t remember anyone being mean, but we weren’t popular anyway, so it was probably just business as usual.”

“What was graduation like?” Eddie asks.

“Good, I think. Long and boring and hot since ours was in the morning,” Richie says, “The worst thing about going to college was finding out that everyone else did it at night and didn’t suffer through four hours of direct sunlight.”

“Stan and Mike both talked, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie pauses, and a little smirk spreads across his face, “So did I.”

“No you didn’t!” Eddie huffs, but the memory is coming back now, “Salutatorian?”

“That would be me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember that. I must have been over the moon for you.”

“Uh...no,” Richie snorts, “You were pissed because you were in the top five in our class and you were on my ass all year about not trying hard enough. You almost broke up with me when I found out.”

“No, I didn’t,” Eddie says, sounding horrified, “Oh, was I that awful?”

“Not usually, I think it was just a sore spot. You did better than me on the SAT so then you thought you’d be better off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for eighteen-year-old you.”

“I hope he’s no longer a part of me because he sounds like a dick.”

“I think you’ve gotten a little better.”

Richie drives in silence for a long while.

“What you might want to hear about is the night after graduation,” Richie says, “If you don’t remember.”

“I do not remember anything after Mike’s speech,” Eddie says, “Which I now realize was at the end.”

“We had sex for the first time after graduation,” Richie says, “Not to keep bringing up sex, and this time I’m not doing it to try and get something out of it, but I’d never remembered losing my virginity so that was obviously kind of a meaningful experience.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, “I had no idea. Was it...good?”

“Probably not,” Richie says, “But it was with you and on what was probably the most important day of our lives at that point, so...it meant a lot. It’s good to know now that it was a positive experience.”

Eddie’s slowly remembering this, Richie’s careful touch and shaky, nervous breaths.

_ “We don’t have to,” Richie said, “Really.” _

_ “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to?” Eddie laughed, “Do  _ you  _ want to?” _

_ “I have never wanted to do anything so badly in my life, but I don’t ever want to be one of your regrets.” _

_ “I couldn’t ever regret you, Rich.” _

“Sweet,” Eddie says.

“It was. Also...life-changing for me.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“The beginning of a very fulfilling sexual career.”

“Gross. Don’t call it a ‘sexual career.’”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t think I’d normally refer to it in polite conversation.”

“Eddie, come on, since when are we having polite conversation?”

“Probably not since you offered to shotgun me in Colorado.”

“Come on!” Richie groans, “I didn’t even do it. I was engaging in harmless flirting.”

“Shameless flirting, more like it.”

“I try to be overt, especially when the guy I’m flirting with is playing dumb. I dropped the subtlety back in Vegas.”

“What did you say in Vegas?”

“‘You look nice.’”

“That is  _ not  _ flirting.”

“It’s subtle flirting,” Richie insists, “You just don’t want to admit to being oblivious.”

“If anyone’s oblivious, it’s you,” Eddie says, “Remember when you asked me out?”

Richie groans, “I thought that was in one of your gaps.”

“Nope!” Eddie says, delighted.

_ They’d kissed for the first time nearly a month before. Richie would drive him home from school and kiss him on the cheek before he got out, they’d hang back in the hallway with the other Losers to whisper to each other about later plans alone, and they’d even fooled around in the back of Eddie’s car a week before, only stopping when Eddie thought about whether or not the school parking lot was really an appropriate setting. _

_ And still, Richie was visibly sweating all through the movie they went to see, some stupid 2010 horror movie. And he wasn’t scared, Eddie knew, because when Richie’s scared he starts cracking jokes and trying to prove he isn’t scared. So this was something unrelated, and when Eddie glanced down to see Richie’s hand inching nervously towards his, he wanted to laugh out loud. _

_ Onscreen, this lady’s baby monitor was going absolutely haywire, so he managed to choke it back. _

_ This motherfucker, despite having had his tongue in Eddie’s mouth no less than like five days ago, is too afraid to hold his hand. Eddie grabbed Richie’s instead, putting an end to the stupid game being played. _

_ “Wow, putting the moves on me, huh Edward?” Richie asked, voice quiet but not quiet enough to keep the lady behind them from violently shushing. As if she couldn’t hear the demented demon voice over the nervous teenage romance taking place in front of her. _

_ Eddie ignored him, instead choosing to fix his gaze on the screen like this stupid movie hadn’t been an elaborate ruse to sit close to Richie for nearly two hours. Like he hadn’t wanted to see Letters to Juliet, because he didn’t want to go see something he’d want to pay attention to. _

_ The lights went up too soon, illuminating their hand-holding for half their high school and one of Richie’s mom’s friends to see. Richie surprised Eddie by not letting go, and Mrs. Tozier’s book club co-founder surprised him by not reacting to their clasped hands as she talked to Richie about are you thinking about college and how was prom and is he getting a summer job. _

_ Richie leaned up against the door of his car once they were out in the parking lot, and Eddie just followed his lead, standing in front of him on the driver side. _

_ “So, I was thinking,” Richie said, looking down at Eddie’s feet, “About maybe like...us dating?” _

_ “Aren’t we dating?” Eddie asked, flatly. _

_ Richie looked shocked at that, like he hadn’t considered it before. _

_ “Are we not on a date? Did you not just introduce me to Mrs. Wilson while we were holding hands, something you typically do with a boyfriend? Did we not ditch fourth period to make out last week...like boyfriends?” _

_ “I just thought you might want to be properly asked.” _

_ “Your window of opportunity for that is long gone, Rich. I assumed we were dating after you kissed me the first time. I only got confused when you got all nervous asking me to the movies like we haven’t been here a thousand times before.” _

_ Richie gifted him with a goofy smile, “Well then, I guess we’re boyfriends.” _

“After all your bragging about being smooth,” Eddie snorts, “I got to see the lie firsthand.”

“You just made me more nervous! I didn’t want us to not be friends anymore,” Richie argues, “And I hadn’t dated a guy before, how was I supposed to know how to act?”

“Because you’d dated before, period,” Eddie laughs, “What did you think was different about gay dating?”

Richie groans, “It’s been almost ten years, let it go.”

“Are we boyfriends now?” Eddie asks, a little tentative, “Or are we going to have to keep doing this for a couple of months and then you almost pass out in the theater trying to ask me out?

He keeps his tone light and joking, providing an opportunity for Richie to deflect if he’s not into the idea. He hadn’t really intended the conversation to go this route, but it seems right in the moment, and he does want to know what they’re doing. How Richie is going to introduce him to his mom, is he going to go to the wedding too, do the rest of their friends still live in Derry?

Richie interrupts Eddie’s runaway train of thought, “I mean...yeah. I guess. It sounds a little juvenile, but I guess we can’t just run off and get married right away. I know, at this point, that I want to be with you. I’ve known since at least fifteen, so I’m thinking it’s a safe bet.”

“You think we’ll get married?” Eddie asks, surprising himself when he tears up. 

He remembers signing divorce papers, feeling like a failure, this deep feeling in his gut that he’d never be loved. Myra didn’t love him, not the way a wife should, and he certainly didn’t love her that way either, so why would anyone else? 

And here’s Richie. Successful and loud and gorgeous in his own way, probably has fans who’d kill to be in Eddie’s place, and he’s choosing him. He’s picking damaged goods over someone unblemished, someone who could love him without the baggage.

Eddie’s crying as they drive past the Massachusetts state sign.

Richie allows him a moment before he answers, “If you’re open to the idea, then yeah. We don’t have to do the big wedding thing, if you don’t want to, but there’s benefits to being married. Not right now, obviously, I’m not insane. But...eventually.”

“I’m open to the idea,” Eddie says, simply, when he wants to say  _ of course I want to marry you, I want the big wedding, I want the best day of my life with a man I really love, unashamed in front of all our family and friends. _

“We don’t have to talk about it for a while.”

So they don’t. 

The hotel in Boston is something probably more appropriately described as an inn. It’s on the outskirts of the city and the parking lot has room for maybe ten cars, and Eddie thinks it’s his favorite place they’ve stayed. It reminds him of being home in all the good ways, of being back in New England and with his childhood best friend/high school sweetheart, like he’s seventeen again.

There’s a heavy quilt on the bed in place of a comforter, and he hears the floor creak as he walks across, and it’s delightfully homey.

“What are we doing while we’re here?” Eddie asks.

Richie shrugs, “This was honestly just a delay point for me. It’s six hours from New York to Derry, there’s no reason to stop again except that I didn’t want to go back.”

“Didn’t?”

“Now I kind of do. I have memories now, I want to see these places we used to go to and maybe see our old friends.”

_ And maybe figure out what happened to make us like this  _ goes unsaid.

“I figured we would go to the Harbor or whatever. You know, where they dumped all the tea,” Richie continues.

“I’m aware of the Revolutionary War, yes,” Eddie says.

“Don’t you want to know more?”

“After thirteen years in American public school and another four at an American university, I feel like I know all there is to know about it,” Eddie says, “Plus Hamilton, as an entire cultural moment.”

“Did you know that the British general’s dog showed up in the American camp and Washington returned it?”

“Why did he bring his dog?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Why would you bring your  _ dog  _ into a  _ warzone _ ?”

“It wasn’t like...modern warfare. It was probably safer.”

“You’d think he’d be too busy to take care of a dog.”

“Eddie, that’s it. We’re going to the Harbor regardless of what you think about the dog.”

They end up on a whale watching tour, because Richie had begged after the Harbor itself hadn’t been altogether too exciting.

(“Just think of all the tea down there,” Richie had said.

“You don’t think it’s still down there,” Eddie snorted.

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Richie, I need you to tell me you don’t really think it’s still down there.”)

So they’re crammed onto this boat, elbow to elbow with old people and families, and what looks to be one other overly-friendly couple who keeps trying to make meaningful eye contact, and there are no whales.

“We’re not going to see any fucking whales,” Eddie mutters under his breath.

Richie looks at him betrayed, “Don’t say that!”

“Do you think they’re going to hear me?”

There’s a ripple through the crowd on the boat, and Richie starts bouncing like a little kid. Eddie sees the spray first, and then a huge fin that slaps hard against the water. It emerges again right in front of them, and he is pretty impressed. Richie, though, is floored, mouth agape and grip tight around Eddie’s arm.

“Did you see it?” He whispers, in awe, as it moves further away.

“No, I missed it,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, “I’m freezing, I hope we get back to land soon.”

Shivering out here, though, was worth of every second of Richie’s excitement. They see a few more whales, but Eddie spends most of the rest of the tour watching Richie instead.

“Beats going on a tour of the revolutionary sites, huh?” Richie asks once they’re back on land.

“I guess, but what if they’d told me the story of General Howe’s dog?”

“That’s not part of the tour. It’s behind-the-scenes with Richie Tozier knowledge.”

They get seafood, because it’s basically a crime to do anything else in this area. It also happens to be the best-smelling restaurant they walk by on the way back to the car, and Richie is suddenly dying of starvation, so they go in.

“Don’t tell California,” Richie says as he eats, “But seafood’s better on the east coast.”

_ “Did we have to get seafood?” Bill groaned, pushing a piece of shrimp around his mostly untouched plate. _

_ “Eat your fries,” Bev suggested, “And be quiet.” _

_ This was junior prom, beforehand, crammed around the biggest table at a (usually) quiet seafood place in the city. It was full of high schoolers that night, though, and bustling with noise. _

_ “Maine is known for seafood,” Mike says, “In case you forgot. Where else would we have gone?” _

_ “A chain Japanese place like everyone else.” _

_ “A chain restaurant on prom night...tacky,” Stan said, simply, eviscerating Bill with a single world. _

_ Eddie was sitting between Richie and Ben, though Ben may as well have been a mile away. His thigh was pressed right against Richie’s, and he was all too aware of the feeling of their bodies’ proximity. Richie, it turned out, could look nice, and it was outrageously unfair he could do it so well. _

_ He wore a deep green tux that year, a daring choice, but it made his eyes seem darker and his skin brighter. It was hard for Eddie not to look at him, or to keep track of conversation, because lately things had seemed different. _

_ Richie would linger with him, in the parking lot or at Bill’s house or at the quarry. Their eyes would meet and Eddie would feel himself catch fire, forcing his gaze away. He thought that Richie almost kissed him, a couple weeks ago, when they were on his roof in the middle of the night, but it had fizzled. And then he didn’t ask him to prom, and it’s like one step forward, two steps back all the time. _

_ “Why don’t you take a picture?” Richie asked, smug, knocking his knee against Eddie’s, “It’ll last longer.” _

_ “Shut up,” Eddie blushed furiously, returning his gaze to his food. _

_ “Only if you save me a dance, Spaghedward.” _

_ “That’s the worst one yet. Don’t count on it.” _

_ “Don’t worry,” Richie winked, “I will.” _

In the here and now, Eddie still shivers at that. Even now that they’re adults, have done a lot more than dance at prom, he feels the promise of something more. He wants to kiss Richie in the middle of this restaurant, and he has to grit his teeth to control the urge.

“I remember junior prom,” He says, “The dinner beforehand.”

“You didn’t give me that dance.”

“You remember?”

“I remember every single time you ever shot me down.”

“I did not shoot you down,” Eddie says, “I thought you were fucking around.”

“I was never fucking around. I wanted you since the second I figured out what it meant to love someone.”

Richie is, generally, not a serious guy. But when he is, it’s a sight to behold. He’s leaned in close to Eddie, staring directly into his eyes. Eddie is helpless, just staring and stuttering to try and find a response. He can’t.

Richie breaks it before he can find one, chattering on about the whales with little regard to the effect he can have on people, to the effect he has on Eddie.

Eddie barely makes it in the door before he collides with Richie, hearing it slam behind them as their lips touch. Richie huffs a breath, surprised, but kisses back all the same. Eddie knows that it’s happening tonight, before they’re back in Maine staying with their parents, and there’s this fluttering in his chest, a nervousness he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Richie’s hands are holding his waist, and he can’t think or breathe or  _ live  _ thinking about those palms, those fingers,  _ god does he have a hand kink it’s not the time for that self-discovery  _ and Richie’s sucking on his lower lip, interrupting his internal monologue. He fists his hands in Richie’s hair, maybe a little too tight, but he remembers always fantasizing about doing that particular thing.

“God, Eddie,” Richie breathes, voice low and wrecked, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Hopefully my new boyfriend,” He mutters back, reconnecting their lips before Richie can respond and embarrass him for saying it. Richie doesn’t even try, surprisingly, just kisses back and works his knee just slightly between Eddie’s legs.

And the friction is  _ something _ , even if it’s just a knee and it’s through their clothes. Eddie chokes back a noise, one that certainly would’ve come out desperate and wanting. Richie’s grip gets tighter, holding Eddie there as he arches into the sensation.

Eddie hasn’t done this in a  _ long  _ time, long enough that he feels like he’s never felt like this before. It’s kind of embarrassing, how he can’t help but respond dramatically to the slightest touch. Richie seems not to mind, though, just crowding him against the door and letting Eddie grind down against his leg. It’s quickly becoming not enough, and Eddie wants more so badly he feels like he can’t even wait for it.

“Rich, please,” Eddie huffs, letting his face drop into Richie’s shoulder, “Let’s get in the bed.”

“Trying to have your wicked way with me?” Richie asks, smirking, the same obnoxious expression he’s had when talking sex for the majority of their lives. Except now, it’s suddenly hot, and Eddie wonders what went wrong in his life that  _ this  _ is what he’s into. 

Richie manhandles him, spinning him around and shoving him onto the bed. It creaks underneath Eddie’s weight, rickety and antique, and Eddie corrects his line of thinking as Richie climbs over him, legs long and bracketing him in the middle. Something must have gone very  _ right. _

Richie looks down at him now, a dumb smile on his face, like he’s suspended in time.

“Do something,” Eddie hisses.

“Why should I?” Richie asks.

Eddie is furious, suddenly, starts popping the buttons on Richie’s shirt. Clearly he’s going to have to do the work here if he doesn’t want to appeal to Richie’s ego. Richie grabs his hands, holding them in the air, and Eddie wants to scream.

“What do you want, Eddie?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You’re acting like I’m killing you.”

“You  _ are, _ ” Eddie groans, “Richie, we can do whatever kinky stuff you want to do later, but right now I need this, because I’ve wanted it since Vegas and I can’t even  _ remember  _ the last time I had sex with anyone, and it’s going to be you.”

“I’m not trying to be kinky!” Richie protests, “You’re dirty, Eddie, I’m just teasing you.”

“Take your clothes off.”

“And  _ I’m  _ being kinky. Bossy.”

The worst part is that Eddie is still outrageously into this, not daunted at all by Richie’s joking and procrastination.

“Why are you so hot?” Eddie asks as Richie lets his shirt fall onto the floor. Eddie sits up to take off his own clothes, but Richie pushes him back down.

“I’m going to do that,” Richie says, “That’s the only thing here that’s non-negotiable.”

“Then get to it. Limited time offer.”

Richie yanks his belt off, leaving his pants on to move on to Eddie. He pulls his shirt over his head, urgent but gentle. He leans into Eddie, kissing his neck as he starts unbuttoning his jeans, and Eddie can’t help but shudder underneath him. 

Richie stops before he takes Eddie’s pants off to shed his own, and Eddie is even more turned on seeing Richie hard, stripped down to his underwear. He must notice Eddie looking, because he takes Eddie’s hand and uses it to touch himself.

“That’s all for you, Eddie,” Richie whispers, almost reverent in his tone, “This is what you fucking do to me.”

Eddie can’t hold back anymore, not after that. He strips off his own pants, throwing them onto the floor next to the bed and pulling Richie back down on top of him. Richie’s skin is warm and soft, his stomach heaving against Eddie’s. When their eyes meet, his pupils are blown wide, the look in his eye disbelieving and impatient all at once.

In a way, it’s like losing his virginity all over again. Richie takes things slow, probably slower than Eddie wants, and he speaks in these hushed tones like he’ll frighten him off. It feels like an eternity, but Richie finally has him on the bed, legs spread, and he’s pushing in slow.

“You okay?” He whispers once he’s fully in, like Eddie is going to back out  _ now.  _

“I’m great,” Eddie says, “Ready to be fucked.”

“You mean ‘make love?’”

“Don’t get soft on me now, Tozier.”

Richie moves, not quite thrusting, more like a slow grind. Eddie feels like he’s being taken apart, especially as Richie moves a hand to wrap around his cock. That’s like nothing he’s ever felt before, Richie’s tight grip paired with the gentle way he’s fucking into Eddie, deep and slow like they’ve got all the time in the world.

“Good?” Richie asks.

Eddie just nods, too overwhelmed by the feeling to speak. He hears himself make the occasional noise, feels out of control. It’s this building pressure, and there’s no  _ way  _ sex has ever been like this before, because he already feels like he’s on the edge.

“Rich,” He huffs, “Richie, please.”

“Please?” Richie asks, looking horribly smug. It turns out that smugness is even  _ hotter  _ when Richie’s inside him, go figure.

“I mean please, if you really fuck me, I’m going to come.”

Richie listens without comment, thankfully, and Eddie comes almost as soon as he thrusts in harder. Richie jerks him through it, and then he’s coming, hips stuttering to a slow stop. He stays there for a moment before he pulls out, just breathing and staring down into Eddie’s eyes.

“Holy shit,” Richie says after they’ve finally crawled into bed for the night, freshly showered and exhausted.

“What?” Eddie asks, laughing a little. Parts of him are sore that he expected, and some that he didn’t expect, but overall he just feels relaxed and loved and like he’s going to sleep better than he has in years.

“I just can’t believe this. You know that like...I love you, right? You know that?”

Eddie’s heart swells. He feels like he can’t breathe. He’s heard it in the flashbacks, they’ve certainly alluded to it, but it’s different for Richie to say it in the here and now.

“I’m going to love you no matter what happens after we get back to Derry, and I am not letting you go again. You understand?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, finally gaining control over himself, “Yeah, I do. I love you, Rich. I always have and I can’t...I’m so happy that we found each other again.”

They leave in the morning after packing in something like a commiserative silence. Derry, clearly, is not a happy place for either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the hardest part of this chapter was finding a slow dance song for their prom. if you went to prom in 2011, please tell me what you slow danced to. they played i don't want to miss a thing at my senior prom, for some reason, despite it being like nearly 30 years out of date.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth


	9. Derry, Maine: 2012

They’re leaving for Florida, a big end of the summer, cross-country road trip of a vacation. Richie wakes up with Eddie sleeping next to him, which always marked the beginning of a  _ very  _ good day, particularly when Eddie curls into his touch instead of trying to jumpstart the day. Richie’s mom definitely doesn’t believe there’s nothing going on between them, but she’s been “trying to exercise controlled freedom” which is self-help book for “letting you do what you want because you finished a year of college and we didn’t think you’d get this far.”

Anyway, Eddie lets Richie blow him, and Richie politely declines any reciprocation because they’re already going to be late. Their suitcases are already packed, a genius move on Eddie’s part, and he can smell pancakes downstairs. He starts down the staircase, Eddie trailing behind him.

“You can’t ever control yourself,” Eddie’s griping, but the lazy smile on his face proves he doesn’t really mind, “Can’t keep your hands off me even when we’re on a  _ schedule,  _ you-”

Eddie stops flat when he spots Wentworth hanging around the bottom of the stairs, looking a little scandalized but mostly just amused. Richie rolls his eyes, smirks a little, trying to maintain the balance of  _ my parents know I have sex now and we’re all trying to pretend it’s not weird.  _

“You just have to stop...oversleeping?” Eddie finishes, lamely, and Richie almost bursts out laughing at the attempt to mask the truth. He hears his dad laugh, and that shows him just how pitiful Eddie’s lie really is.

“Your mom made pancakes,” Wentworth says, clapping Richie on the shoulder, “Better eat up so you have the energy to laze around on the beach for the rest of the summer.”

They duck into the kitchen, plopping down at the table where Richie’s mom has laid out breakfast in a rare display of maternal affection. Typically, her relationship with Richie hovers somewhere between being the disciplinarian and his best friend, but she’s never been one for typical mom behavior like big family breakfasts. Except, apparently, when they have strict orders from Bill  _ not to be late this time, Richie, we all know you’re fucking and it’s not an excuse. _

“Susan is going to kill me,” Maggie jabbers, “I will come to a premature end dealing with the neighbor from  _ Hell,  _ mark my words.”

“What did she do now?” Eddie asks.

Maggie’s eyes light up. If there’s one way that she bonds with Eddie, it’s through dissecting the actions of Susan from Next Door, who is not in Richie’s good graces either after snitching to his mom about him and Eddie’s little spot on the roof. There’s no reason for a middle-aged woman to be staring at her neighbor’s house in the middle of the night, even if there’s a makeout session occurring on top of it. Even so, he doesn’t get heated about this like Eddie does.

“She said she’s going to call the HOA because Went missed grass cutting day,” Maggie sighs, “Like she can enforce  _ one  _ grass cutting day for the whole neighborhood. On top of that, she continues threatening to take legal action because of Richie’s little stunt, saying it’s emotionally traumatized her nephew.”

Richie’s little stunt, like Eddie wasn’t involved. Ha.

“I guess peeping runs in the family,” Eddie says.

“Hope they enjoyed the show,” Richie adds on, then kicks Eddie under the table.

His mom points a spatula at him, “Watch it, Richard, don’t make me tell your father.”

Richie just snorts into his pancakes, trying to speed up the eating process a little bit. After a whole stack and  _ another  _ lecture about safe drinking, like they haven’t been at college, she finally lets them out the door. They walk to Bill’s house together, only stopping  _ once  _ to kiss and grope at each other, and they make it right on the dot.

“Thank God,” Stan says, “We figured you’d be late.”

“When have I ever been late?” Richie asks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

Bill’s parents let him take their monster of an SUV so that they can all ride together, and Richie ends up in the wayback on one side of Eddie. Bev occupies the other, already trying to teach Eddie to braid so she doesn’t have to do her hair herself. Stan and Ben are in the two weird middle seats, and Mike sits shotgun. He’s the best navigator and has the best music taste, so they’re usually content to give up the seat.

Eddie, though, can’t seem to resist complaining.

“The fucking middle seat...Bev’s smaller than me, why doesn’t she sit here?”

“I thought you’d want to sit with Richie,” Bev points out, an amused smile on her face.

“Why would I want to do that?” Eddie grumbles, without feeling, knowing he’s been had.

Richie tries to covertly slide a hand onto Eddie’s thigh, show him exactly  _ why he’d want to do that _ , but Stan reaches back and slaps it away before it reaches its destination.

“None of  _ that  _ today,” Stan says.

“You’re one to talk, I saw you feeling up Patty Blum in the back of the theatre last week,” Richie snorts, “At a matinee, for Christ’s sake.”

Stan’s cheeks go red, but his tone is unaffected, “I’m shocked you saw that, I figured you were too busy trying to remove your tongue from Eddie’s throat to pay any attention to your surroundings.”

“Ew,” Bill groans, “Can we move on?”

“Don’t you think it’s romantic?” Mike laughs, fake-sighing, “Young love.”

“All I’m saying is  _ no one  _ is getting it on in my parents’ backseat. That goes for Eddie and Richie, Bev and Ben,  _ anyone,”  _ Bill says, “Or you’ll be the one cleaning it out at the end of the trip.”

They stop for lunch in Connecticut. Eddie had gotten weird about two hours into the drive when Richie had tried holding his hand, retreating and withdrawing to stare out the window. Richie continued singing along to Mike’s road trip playlist, which was cycling through a bubblegum pop section, but he couldn’t deny that it hurt a little bit. 

A week or so before, they’d gotten in their first and only fight of the summer.

_ “I fucking love you,” Richie huffed, during an orgasm, so it really should’ve been forgotten and they could’ve just moved on.  _

_ “We need to slow this down,” Eddie said immediately, sex forgotten, climbing off of Richie and pulling his clothes back on at a surprising speed, “I don’t know what we’re doing, but it’s not good.” _

_ Richie had just rolled his eyes, because Eddie was always overthinking this. Like casual hooking up between former lovers, lifelong best friends couldn’t be a thing. And, yes, maybe Richie was catching feelings, but he wasn’t naive enough to think Eddie reciprocated them. _

_ “I didn’t even mean it,” Richie sighed, “I was literally not even thinking in that moment. Did you know that when you come you physically can’t think?” _

_ “Richie, I’m not in the mood.” _

_ “I’m just telling the truth. And I wasn’t thinking just now, so I said something I didn’t mean. Is it really a big deal?” _

_ “Yes, Richie,” Eddie snapped, putting on a stoner voice that definitely hurt Richie’s feelings, “It is totally a big deal.” _

_ “Why? I just said I didn’t mean it.” _

_ “You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. I already broke up with you once, I don’t want to have to fucking do it again.” _

_ That, specifically, felt like a punch in the stomach. “Oh, so you’d definitely break up with me, then?” _

_ “We clearly can’t be with each other, I don’t know why you think it would be any better now. If anything, it would be worse, considering how much you’ve bragged and bragged about how much sex you’re having at school. We’re both better off.” _

_ “Speak for yourself,” Richie said, surprised by the coldness in his own voice, “I know I’d be better off with you. Then I wouldn’t be sleeping around to cope. Sorry I got dumped and decided to play the field?” _

_ “We can’t be together, it doesn’t make sense.” _

_ “How?” _

_ “Because you’re you, and I’m me, and long distance fucking sucks, and my mom’s a homophobe, that’s why. It will never work.” _

_ Eddie had stormed out after that, and Richie heard him say goodbye to his dad downstairs, like nothing was wrong. Like they hadn’t been screaming at each other moments before.  _

_ He and Eddie had never really fought before, not like this, and coming out of it had been even more difficult than dealing with it in the first place. _

_ In the end, Eddie just texted him a few days later, just like “you up and can I come over?” and Richie was weak, and when they were making out, Richie made sure not to say anything even remotely close to I love you. No matter how much he thought it. _

So now things are still a little weird, and Richie had intended holding his hand as a  _ move,  _ not as like...a romantic advance. But Eddie had taken it the wrong way and was now privately freaking out, which is even worse than when he publicly freaks out, and he insists that they should split up for lunch _ because he fucking hates sandwiches.  _

Mike, Stan, and Bev break off with Richie, leaving Ben and Bill to go wherever Eddie sees as an alternative. Bev and Ben exchange a goodbye that’s almost tearful, like they won’t see each other for  _ years,  _ and Richie is as envious as he is annoyed, especially when Eddie doesn’t even return his flirty wave.

“Is it just me, or did the temperature in that car drop below zero in the last hour?” Mike asks as soon as they’re seated and done ordering.

“I don’t even fucking know what to do,” Richie groans, “Why am I literally the unluckiest man alive?”

“He loves you,” Bev says, “He told me.”

“What the fuck, Beverly?” Richie cries, “That’s so not helpful.”

“I thought you should know,” She shrugs.

“If he loves me, he’s showing it in a really weird way.”

“You kind of went about this in the worst way possible,” Stan comments, “Casual sex is not how you rekindle a relationship.”

“What do you know about any of this?” Richie demands.

“I was talking to my mom about it and-”

“Why did you tell your  _ mom? _ ”

“And she says your foundation is weak, so you need to rebuild it.”

“Considering Eddie goes back to school in, like, a week, I don’t see that happening.”

“You guys will end up together,” Bev says, flippant, “Maybe not now, but you’re meant for each other and everyone knows it.”

“Maybe you should back off for now,” Mike offers, “So he has some time to think and figure shit out.”

So Richie resolves, then and there, that he’ll keep his hands off Eddie Kaspbrak. Which is super easy until they’re at a rest stop hours later and Eddie’s looking something like irresistible in these cutoff shorts he must’ve made himself out of an old pair of jeans. They’re just a little shorter than they would be if he bought them in a store, and it seems deliberate, and so does the look he gives Richie as he ducks into the bathroom. (The  _ bathroom!  _ Richie thinks,  _ Who is this and what has he done with Eddie?) _

Richie doesn’t hear the lock click, but he still knocks just in case. He barely has time to open the door before Eddie yanks him inside, squatting awkwardly on the floor so he doesn’t touch it ( _ There’s the Eddie he knows and loves)  _ and yanking Richie’s pants to his knees.

How’s he supposed to say no to that?

Richie never got a chance to learn to resist Eddie, because right as they crossed the state line into Florida, a truck rammed into the side of the car and promptly ended their vacation. He doesn’t remember much about the accident itself, aside from the sound of shattering glass and the blue lights and Bev’s soft voice once he was under hospital lights.

_ A drunk driver. He totally missed our side of the car, but you got hit head-on. You’re lucky to be alive. They said...they said Eddie wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t been there. _

And Richie doesn’t grasp the logistics of that, how wrapping his body around Eddie’s had saved him, but the broken ribs are well worth Eddie’s life.

Even after Sonia Kaspbrak screams at him in the Florida hospital, promising none of them will ever see her son again after their “blatant irresponsibility.”

He remembers his mom arguing with her, seeing her truly furious for the first time, and thinking that she really cared about him if she was going toe-to-toe with the meanest woman in town.

“They got hit by a  _ drunk driver,  _ Sonia, it was a freak accident. None of these kids could’ve prevented that. You’re lucky Richie was there or your son would be  _ dead. _ ”

“My son nearly died because of this trip and his poor choice in friends.”

“I think you’re missing the part where Richie saved his life.”

“I think  _ you’re  _ missing the part where Richie has done  _ nothing  _ but corrupt Eddie since the second they met.”

Richie’s mom shifted her tone at that, from angry hysteria to a cold, almost frightening fury, “And what is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“I think you know what it means.”

Hospital security had escorted Richie’s mom out after she’d lunged at Sonia, and Eddie had been shipped back to New York the second after he was released from the hospital. No car, no cell phone, and a promise that if he ever spoke to Richie or the rest of their friends ever again, he’d be cut off entirely.

Richie comes to on the side of the highway. It’s 2019, they’re back in Maine and right outside of Derry. Eddie looks like he’s seen a ghost, and Richie knows the feeling. Things finally seem to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this was a shorter chapter, i figured i'd go ahead and upload it!!! in case you're confused this whole chapter up until the very end is a memory, i tried to make that clear. also very sorry if there's any tense issues, this is weird to write in terms of that, so i know i slip up every now and again. this chapter was especially hard, so please forgive  
maggie tozier says gay rights  
i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth  
p.s. increased the chapter count by 1 because i can't do math :-)


	10. pink chimneys in maine couldn't keep me away

Eddie remembers at the same time as Richie, just a second later, wondering why he pulled over on the side of the highway until he’s feeling it too. 

_ “Whoa-” Bill started, not even able to finish his warning before there was a crunch and all Eddie could feel was Richie’s body wrapped around his and the spinning out and someone screaming. Stan, he thinks, it sounds most like Stan and Stan was furthest away from the impact so he could see everything and feel everything. _

_ He remembers shaking, just trembling all over his body. He saw glass in his arm, didn’t register that it belonged to him.  _

_ “You’re okay,” Richie said, soothing, despite the obvious pain in his voice, “We’re okay.” _

_ “Is everyone okay?” Mike asked, always the measured one, “I called the police, does anyone need an ambulance?” _

_ “I think...I might,” Richie managed, and his eyes fluttered, and Eddie shook him. _

_ “You can’t sleep,” Eddie said, snapping out of it, “You can’t go to sleep because you might have head trauma and it’s bad for you, stay awake at least until the paramedics get here-” _

_ Eddie jabbered on, talking to avoid his thoughts like  _ you might die because of me and after fighting with you and denying my feelings and realizing here and now that you’re the love of my life I can’t lose you,  _ and later he feels silly. _

_ “Just broken ribs,” Mike said to Eddie in the waiting room later, “He’ll be fine. But...he saved your life, Eddie, that’s what the police said. He grabbed onto you first, before he even protected himself at all. I’ve never seen someone react so fast to something.” _

_ “God,” Eddie breathed, voice thick with tears. “Is everyone else okay?” _

_ He felt like an ass for only asking about Richie, but the car had hit his side. Hard. _

_ “Yeah,” Mike said, “Stan’s got a concussion, but he’s okay. I just have some scratches. Bill has whiplash. Beverly and Ben are both fine except some scrapes.” _

_ That made sense. Bev and Ben were huddled in the other corner of the waiting room, holding onto each other and whispering. He didn’t blame them. _

_ “Did you call my mom?” Eddie whispered, small, and he wasn’t looking forward to that at all. He wanted to see Richie before he left. _

_ “She’s on her way,” Mike said. _

_ “Is she mad?” _

_ Mike just offered a sympathetic smile, and that was all the answer Eddie needed. _

_ “Bill knows...it’s not his fault, right?” _

_ “Well, you know Bill,” Mike said, “But we keep telling him.” _

_ After Mike talked in hushed words with the doctor, an exchange that looked almost heated, they agreed to let Eddie go up and see Richie. He got a text from his mom moments before, announcing her arrival into Florida. He won’t have much time.  _

_ Richie’s mom was in his room already, must have taken an immediate flight to get down to Florida, and her face lit up at Eddie’s arrival. _

_ “Did they tell you he saved me?” Eddie asked, sheepish, “He threw himself right on top of me. Right before the car hit, like it was his first thought.” _

_ “Leave it to Richie,” She sighed, but sounded almost proud, “He finally steps up, but of course only once it could get him killed.” _

_ “Can you tell him thank you?” _

_ “You can tell him later.” _

_ “I don’t...I don’t think my mom is going to let me talk to him anymore,” Eddie said, feeling tears welling up behind his eyes. They fell before he could choke them back, but he tries to talk through it anyway, “I mean...anybody, not just Richie. I just need you to make sure he knows I’m grateful.” _

_ “I’ll tell him. And I’ll talk to your mom. None of you could’ve prevented this, there wasn’t enough time.” _

_ “I just don’t think she’ll listen,” Eddie looked down at the floor, watching his tears fall and puddle up on the white tile. _

_ “Honey, come here,” Maggie said, reaching out, and he collapsed into her arms. This was Richie’s mom, who’d always been more maternal than his own. She loved Richie, even if she struggled with disciplining him, and she’d always loved Eddie too. _

_ “I know you love him,” Maggie whispered, “And everything will be okay.” _

_ He sobbed, then, freely and openly, until his mother stormed into the room and ripped him away. _

Richie’s crying. Eddie feels that his face is wet, so he must be crying too. And cars soar past them on the highway, oblivious to this moment taking place alongside their journeys.

“You saved me,” Eddie whispers, almost reverent, “Thank you.”

“Call it an instinct,” Richie tries to laugh, wiping his tears away, “I can’t believe it.”

“I wanted to tell you that I loved you then,” Eddie says, “Your mom said it before I could in the hospital. She said, ‘I know you love him’ and I cried and cried with her holding me. She told me she’d tell you thank you.”

“I’m sure she did,” Richie said, “I woke up when they started fighting.”

“Who?”

“Our moms. Your mom insinuated that I made you gay and my mom almost knocked her out. She got kicked out of the hospital.”

“Your mom is the best.”

“She really is.”

“I thought you were going to die. You knew I loved you, right?”

“I knew I loved you,” Richie says, “And that was enough.”

Eddie reaches for him, and he doesn’t know how long they stay there wrapped in each other’s arms. Richie’s touch is the most comforting thing he’s ever felt, especially in this moment, and Eddie lets himself cry for a little while.

After quelling the shakiness, Richie starts driving again. They agree to go to his house first. Eddie has a lot to say to his own mother, and he should probably go alone, but only after plenty of time to figure out his exact words.

Richie’s driveway brings this feeling of ease, like he’s home. More home than he ever felt with Myra or his mother, and Maggie Tozier is standing on the porch. Her face is a little more weathered, her hair up in a curly bun like Richie used to wear in their later high school years. She squints at Eddie, a look of confusion, and then sudden realization as he steps out of the car.

“Eddie Kaspbrak?” She asks, voice colored with disbelief, “Where did you come from?”

“Mom, you won’t believe this,” Richie laughs, “Seriously, but I found him hitchhiking out of California.”

“I didn’t know...I didn’t realize you’d remembered,” She says, “The doctors told us to let you remember on your own, and it had been so long. I thought you wouldn’t ever remember it.”

“Here’s the thing: I didn’t,” He says as he throws his arms around her, hugging her in tight. She shoves him off after a moment, and squeezes Eddie even harder. 

“Wait a minute,” She says as she separates from Eddie, “Richard  _ Tozier,  _ are you telling me you picked up a  _ stranger  _ off the side of the  _ road _ ?” 

Richie holds his hands up defensively, and they follow her inside. She sits them both down and Richie starts the slow retelling of the story, minus a few details along the way. Eddie just slumps against him, feeling exhausted by being back in Derry, by having the weirdest ever story to explain to everyone they know, like  _ oh this is my childhood best friend and high school sweetheart, we literally forgot each other for almost ten years, but now we’re in love again. _

Maggie, after getting over her initial shock, seems happy. She calls Richie’s dad down, forces them to explain all over again. Richie shortens it this time, and his dad seems less interested in all the details, but even he seems happier than before.

“It’s good to see you again,” He says to Eddie, then goes back upstairs to whatever he was working on, but Eddie feels the love regardless.

Richie’s mom chatters on now, already over this weird turn of events, and Eddie is so envious of this parental relationship he could scream.

“Richie, there was this joke on your show last week and I just  _ know  _ you wrote it and it was  _ not  _ appropriate-”

He falls into the easy routine of the Tozier household, just like they’re sixteen again. And he tries desperately not to think of how he’s going to tell his own mother and dreads her reaction even more. 

“You think Miranda will be okay if I bring Eddie to the wedding?” Richie asks over dinner later, “I know I didn’t RSVP with a plus-one-”

Maggie cutes her eyes in Richie’s direction, “Bring Eddie...like a date?”

“Yeah, mom,” Richie snorts, “Like a date, if we must be so high school about this.”

“Oh, forgive me, I forgot my super mature son was all grown up.”

“Miranda will be fine with it,” Wentworth says, “Besides, I know that your grandmother RSVP’d and she can’t make it tomorrow, so there’s technically an extra space anyway.”

Eddie hopes he has something nice enough to wear to a wedding.

“Your friends are in town,” Maggie says, breaking the silence that falls afterward, “I’m sure they’d love to see you. They came by the other day.”

“All of them?” Richie asks.

“They’ve been waiting for you to come home for a long time,” She says.

She writes down Mike’s number for Richie, and Richie sets out to plan a meeting while he and Eddie are still in Derry. As he does that, Eddie bites the bullet and decides it’s time to go see his mother.

Richie sits him down beforehand, a serious look on his face for once.

“If  _ anything  _ happens, call me. I will drop everything and come pick you up.”

“Okay, Rich,” Eddie laughs, “It won’t be pleasant, but it’ll be fine.”

He can’t show Richie how nervous he really is, because he knows that if he does Richie will want to come. And it will just be messier that way. This is something he needs to do, and it’s something he needs to do on his own.

Standing on his porch an hour later, he’s not so sure anymore. But his mother answers the door before he can run away.

She throws her arm around him, like they haven’t seen each other in years, and yanks him into the house. Eddie starts talking as soon as they’re sitting down.

“I’m saying right now that I’m not going back to Myra.”

His mother opens her mouth to reply, but he just shakes his head.

“Let me talk, ma,” He says, tired, “I have a lot to tell you. A lot of it you already know, but we have to talk about it. No matter how much you don’t want it.”

He holds his breath. She doesn’t try to talk over him. So he presses on.

“I’m gay. I know you know that. Marrying Myra didn’t fix me, and nothing will. Nothing is  _ broken _ , and if you want to be in my life you need to understand that.”

She starts crying, but Eddie’s numb to it. For the first time in his life, he’s putting himself first.

“I know what happened in 2012, too. I remember the accident, I remember my friends, and I came home with Richie Tozier. I can’t believe you kept that from me for so long, and I don’t know if I can forgive you for it. But Richie...is the love of my life. I’ve felt that way since I was old enough to have feelings like that, and nothing’s changed, even after years away from him.”

She looks down at the floor, not speaking. It strikes Eddie, suddenly, that he doesn’t care what she has to say. He’s independent from her entirely now, and there’s nothing she can do to keep him in Derry or away from Richie anymore. And he knows she knows that.

Finally, she responds. 

“I can’t say I’m happy with your choices as of late, Eddie,” Her voice is tight and clipped, “But you’re not giving me an option here. I’ll pray for you. I’m happy we got to see each other, but I think it’s best you leave and give me time to think about this.”

No “I love you,” no “please don’t do this,” just short words and promptly shooing him out the door. Eddie thinks, as he walks back down the street, that maybe he would’ve preferred yelling and a tantrum. He was only in her house for maybe ten minutes, but it changed his life entirely.

He’s not lying, he’s in love, he’s happy. He’s  _ truly  _ happy.

Richie picks him apart once he gets back to the Tozier’s house, like he thinks Eddie is lying about what happened. But, finally, he breaks away, and instead turns the conversation back to seeing their friends.

“Mike said they’re all going to be at his house tonight,” Richie says, “He’s the only one of us who still lives here. But they’ll all be there tonight and it might be our only shot so-”

“We should go,” Eddie says, cutting him off, “I want to see what they’re like now.”

Richie smiles, “Then let’s go.”

The short answer is that nothing has changed, despite the fact that they’re much older now and have moved all over the country. Beverly still takes her rightful place next to Eddie, remnants of old best friendship still dictating the rules. Stan is still dry in the best of ways, making snappy comments at Richie’s expense. Ben is still the voice of reason, and the most reactive to their story, losing himself in the romance. Mike still knows how to hold them all captive with charisma, charm, and being the most normal of the bunch. And Bill still binds them all together, even now when Eddie feels especially broken.

Broken in a good way, though, like he’s free from some sort of constraints he wasn’t even aware of before. Like after a really good adjustment at the chiropractor, when everything is sore but it’s obviously for the best.

“It’s good to see you two together,” Mike says, “After all this time. It’s a big change from the last time.”

“It’s still new,” Eddie says, cautiously, not wanting to come off like he’s crazy, despite feeling a little insane over how he’s already set on marrying Richie, on figuring things out as they go because they have each other now, and that’s the only real stability Eddie needs to go all in on this.

“And we’re going to elope when we drive back through Vegas, but don’t tell, the proposal’s gonna be a surprise,” Richie says in a stage whisper, looking at Eddie with his eyes all lit up and affectionate.

“Like I’d say yes,” Eddie murmurs, but he would. If Richie got down on one knee right now, he’d say yes without a thought otherwise. 

Whereas marrying Myra never felt right, the idea of marrying Richie has not ever, for a second, felt wrong. 

“We got married last year,” Ben says, like he’s been waiting for the conversation to become at all relevant to say this.

“In Paris,” Bill says, tone teasing, “Fuck your budget, they said.”

“Like you can’t afford it,” Stan says, rolling his eyes, “Team Not Famous, right Eddie?”

“Richie’s not really famous,” Eddie says.

Bill snorts, “Yeah, okay. Maybe not to people who don’t know.”

“Eddie doesn’t know,” Richie says, “I didn’t tell him because when I thought he was a stranger I didn’t want him blabbering all over the Internet about our little trip.”

“Eddie,” Bev says, in that special correcting you without being an asshole voice she’s always done so well, “Richie writes for the biggest sketch show since SNL. You didn’t know?”

“I don’t watch a lot of TV,” He shrugs, though he does feel a little embarrassed. And shocked. And understands why people would occasionally just blatantly stare, though Richie certainly didn’t make mention of it.

“Sorry we didn’t invite you guys,” Ben says, “But we hadn’t talked in years...I just thought it would be weird, and we didn’t have your contact information. Especially you, Eddie, so...and with it being so far, it wouldn’t have felt right to ask you to fly out and-”

“It’s cool,” Richie cuts him off, “I’m sorry for forgetting you existed. For like...years. What the fuck is that? Did any of you forget?”

“I did,” Stan volunteers, “For a while. I came home to visit my family, though, and ran into Mike and remembered right away. I think it’s because no one else got hurt. I’m not a doctor, though, so don’t take my word for it.”

“I never left Maine,” Mike shrugs, “So I couldn’t run away from it.”

“Ben and I were dating then,” Bev says, “We talked about it a lot, for a while after college. It makes it hard to forget.”

“I was driving,” Bill says, like that explains everything, “So.”

They’re quiet for a moment, one of those things where everyone reflects on the same moment. Eddie can’t find the words to talk about it, but he takes solace in the fact that they’re all thinking about it at the least. It’s strange, how pointedly not different this feels, even though they’re older and different.

“Hey,” Stan says, finally breaking the silence, “Remember when Bill was in the school play and he tripped in front of the whole school?”

For a moment, the silence continues on. Eddie frantically searches for the memory. Bev snort laughs, suddenly, and then they’re all in hysterics. Eddie definitely remembers this, the panicked look on Bill’s face as he fell, the collective groan of the crowd anticipating his impact.

“Fine,” Bill says, good-naturedly, “Laugh at me all you want. At least I didn’t go home crying from our first sleepover because I missed my mom’s cooking.”

“No offense to Sharon,” Stan says, “But her meatloaf sucks.”

And Eddie remembers this, too, crammed at Bill’s kitchen table and choking down Sharon Denbrough’s notoriously awful food. Stan tearing up at having to eat it, and it was so horrible back then, he felt bad for both Stan and Bill’s mom. But now he’s laughing, thinking back on it.

“I have a better one,” Bev says, “Remember when Richie’s dad found out I’d been sneaking in to have sleepovers with you guys?”

“Oh my God,” Richie groans, “Stop.”

“And he gave us all ‘the talk’ right then and there!” Eddie finishes, unable to resist heckling Richie.

“What about an Eddie story?” Richie asks, teasing, “One you guys don’t know.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ben laughs, encouraging, “ _ Please. _ ”

“My mom has this longstanding rivalry with our neighbor, right?” Richie starts, and Eddie groans, because he knows exactly where he’s going with this. “So, little known secret: Eddie and I used to make out on my roof whenever you guys were over.”

“We know about it,” Stan says, “Believe me. It’s ridiculous you thought you were being sneaky.”

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Richie presses on, “Our neighbor, Susan-”

Eddie zones out, letting Richie tell the story as he watches the animation on his face. He’s doing the voice thing, and it’s funny, and everyone seems so enraptured. It feels so good to sit around with his friends, reminiscing on high school and hearing them tell college stories. He feels like a part of something, something he lost a long time ago but fit perfectly once he found it again.

This, in all its silliness and awkward catching up and being somehow meant to reconnect, he can just feel it. This is being home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost done y'all!!! this has been such a fun project, and i'm going to be sooooo sad to leave this little world.  
i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth  
p.s. for those who have been worried about my paper, (one commenter) i finished the first draft tonight two days early. we are all good :-)


	11. i get mystified by how the city screams your name

**One year later**

The new apartment is full, bubbling with life, like nowhere Richie’s ever lived before. It’s a drastic change, going from being so alone to sitting on the floor of an empty room with his childhood best friends because their new couch hasn’t been delivered yet. 

He’s on the phone with his mom, ignoring the way Bev pinches at his ankles as he paces around the living room.

“Yes, we got in safe. All our stuff is inside. It’s a good neighborhood, I’m safer here than I was in L.A.”

“And they’re letting you keep your job?” Maggie asks.

“For now,” Richie says, “But I think I’m going to try and get back out there doing standup. Maybe some acting jobs. The world is my oyster.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“I was just calling to check in, I’ve gotta go. Everyone is still here and I’m being a terrible host.”

Bev’s just landed a particularly hard pinch right where his ankle bone is, and his middle finger is clearly not enough of a deterrent.

“It’s nice, Richie,” Mike says, whistling low, “Almost makes me want to move off somewhere.”

“You’re welcome to come stay anytime, Mikey. But the apartment was all Eddie. I thought I knew how feisty he could be until I watched him bargain down that realtor. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen, hands down.”

“Get down here,” Bev hisses, pinching him again, “We have a wedding to plan.”

“Oh Beverly, that’s  _ months  _ away.”

“Richie, we have to set a venue tonight or you’re not getting married.”

“Get down there and help her, Richie,” Eddie says.

“I’m not the one making a fuss about the whole thing! I think we should just go back to Vegas, elope, a real homage to how this whole thing got started.”

“We’re having a real wedding.”

“Okay, bridezilla,” Richie snorts.

Eddie gives him a  _ look,  _ one that’s supposed to be mean but has really just veered sharply into being super hot. 

“I’d love to get married in California,” Richie says, “Since  _ someone  _ forced me away from the sunshine state.”

“Florida is the sunshine state, you idiot,” Stan snorts.

“Is it, though?”

“We looked at some wineries in Napa Valley,” Ben says.

“And decided on Paris,” Bill says, shaking his head, “Cross-country wasn’t enough for you?”

“Complain all you want, Bill, at least you were invited to this frivolous Parisian wedding,” Richie huffs, “Look at me, letting Beverly do my wedding planning after she didn’t even invite me to hers. Some maid of honor.”

“Richie,” Bev groans, “We. Hadn’t. Spoken. In. Years.”

“And to think you’ll be planning my bachelor party.”

“You won’t be having a bachelor party,” Eddie says, “We’re too old.”

“Speak for yourself,  _ someone  _ was voted one of  _ People’s  _ hottest bachelors in Hollywood.”

“In related news, men in Hollywood marrying off at alarming rates,” Stan deadpans, “Whoever wrote that piece should be fired.”

“Men in comedy are having a moment,” Mike shrugs.

“Who wants pizza?” Patty asks, coming in with boxes stacked in her arms. Stan jumps up to take some, but she waves him off.

“You went to the place I told you about, right?” Eddie asks, “Not the other one?”

“Right, Eddie,” Patty chuckles, “Only real New York pizza.”

“It’s only fitting for our first night as real New Yorkers,” Richie says, “Forgive Eddie, he’s having a wedding-related meltdown.”

“Oh, I remember those days. I kept telling Stan we should just elope.”

Richie gives Eddie a look like,  _ See, I told you,  _ but he doesn’t mean it. Not after everything Eddie’s been through. He deserves a second wedding as glamorous as he’s ever dreamed of. And Eddie has plenty of dreams, which is one of the things making this whole ordeal so difficult to plan. He and Myra had just done the friends-and-family, church setting kind of deal, and Eddie clearly wants so much more.

He’s switched the theme something like a hundred times already. From rustic to minimalist to art deco, whatever the hell that means. Richie thinks that all of his inspiration pictures have looked the same, regardless of the phase he’s in, all string lights and greenery.

Richie’s been as involved as he possibly can be, but the fact of the matter is that it’s just not his strong suit. He’s most looking forward to sampling cakes.

He can’t help but glance down at Eddie’s left hand, feeling a swell of pride at the engagement ring he’d picked out. He’d made it clear early on he wanted to do the proposing despite all of Eddie’s protests. For months, Eddie would describe all these theoretical proposals he’d planned for Richie, like it would change his mind just because Eddie said he’d scream it from the Hollywood sign for everyone to hear.

_ Richie had pulled a lot of strings for it to work. He wasn’t typically on the show, and being onstage made him a little uncomfortable. He and Eddie had discussed public proposals beforehand, a while ago, and Eddie had expressed played down enthusiasm. He’d always been a touch overdramatic, and this was clearly another manifestation of that tendency. _

_ But it didn’t get much more public than going live on his show, Eddie in the studio audience, and inserting himself into one of his own sketches despite the blatant discomfort it made him feel. _

_ There was nothing about the sketch itself to do with marriage, proposals, nothing. Eddie would’ve sniffed that out immediately. It was getting some laughs, nothing crazy, but that was the point. He turned to the audience about two minutes in, his heart pounding so hard he could feel his pulse jumping in his throat. _

_ “Please check under your seats, and if you have the little box bring it onstage.” _

_ Eddie had the nerve to look annoyed when he pulled it out, like Richie was just making him a part of this to embarrass him. He’d taken it out of the ring box, of course, so it wouldn’t be stupidly obvious. It was pretty innocuous, a tiny cardboard box wrapped with string to hold it together. _

_ His scene partner had slowly backed offstage, leaving the two of them alone. This was the part he couldn’t fuck up, the preceding lines meaning nothing in the context of this moment. The audience seemed to have picked up on a change, laughter had died down, and for maybe the first time in the show’s history, the room was totally silent. _

_ “Why, thank you, kind and handsome stranger,” He plucked the box from Eddie’s hand, a little shaky, but soldiering onward, “You got a boyfriend?” _

_ “I do,” Eddie said icily, but with a little smile threatening to break out on his face. _

_ “Must be a lucky guy.” _

_ “He sure is,” Eddie said, “Not sure why I put up with him, to be honest.” _

_ “I think I could give you a few reasons,” Richie chuckled, breathless, and the moment felt right, so he got down on one knee. _

_ Eddie put his hand over his mouth right away before Richie could even start talking, and he was shaking his head, but in a I can’t believe this kind of way instead of a get off the floor you moron kind of way. _

_ “Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you every second since we were thirteen years old, even the ones where I didn’t realize it,” Richie started, “I can’t believe I lived ten years of my life without you and I  _ never  _ want to feel that missing part of me again. I promise to take you on as many cross-country road trips as it takes to keep us falling in love over and over again, and this time we can even share beds in every state.” _

_ Eddie laughed, then, in a choked up kind of way that totally fucked up Richie’s rhythm and forced tears into his own eyes. He’d practiced this speech until he didn’t cry anymore, and all it took was a few rogue Kaspbrak tears for him to lose his groove. He gave himself a moment by untying the string on the box, letting the flaps fall away to unveil a ring. _

_ “You are the strongest, smartest, hottest guy I know and I just know everyone watching this can’t believe you chose me. So I’m asking you here and now, to choose me forever. Will you marry me?” Richie asks, finally. _

_ “Yes,” Eddie said, quietly, too quiet for the mic to pick up. But the audience could see his nodding, and even Richie was shocked by the thunderous applause that overtook the room. _

_ Richie fumbled with the ring, but slipped it onto Eddie’s finger somehow anyway. He jumped up then, taking Eddie into his arms. _

_ “You fucker,” Eddie laughed into his ear, “You beat all my fake proposals.” _

_ “Just perks of the job, my dear.” _

The losers leave after Eddie and Richie narrow it down to a top three list of venues, two of which are in California. The last one’s in Maine, kind of a wild card, but it would be easier on their families and their friends. Not Derry, of course, but somewhere more beautiful and light.

Their bed is one of the only things they’d kept from Richie’s old apartment, dismantling and rebuilding it to get it to New York.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” Eddie says, “I know you loved L.A.”

“It was time for a change,” Richie says, “That city was too kind for me. Maybe now I’ll be on real SNL instead of the ripoff.”

“After the stunt you pulled? I doubt it.”

“Please, that was one of our highest rated episodes  _ ever.  _ The YouTube video is beyond viral. They owe their whole audience to me.”

“I still can’t believe you did that.”

“You fucking loved it.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and he nuzzles into Richie’s hair, lips soft against his scalp. “I did. It was perfect. And the wedding will be too, even if it’s in fucking Vegas.”

“Starting to grow on you, huh?”

“Vegas was the first place I realized you were hot. Before that I was too busy hoping you wouldn’t kill me for sport.”

“I only picked you up because you’re hot,” Richie says, “I thought that if I died, I’d go out looking at what I loved.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks, a little lilt of a smirk on his face.

“Yeah. You could kill me right now, and it would be a life well-lived.”

“Mmm...I don’t think I will just yet.”

“Thank God. I can’t wait to see your ass in a tux on our wedding day. That’s when I’ll die.”

Eddie just leans into him, near-collapsing, like he’s more relaxed than ever. Richie’s staring out their balcony curtains, slightly parted, and the city lights are beautiful in the distance. With a wedding in three months and so many big changes behind them, he’s finally where he’s meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnnd the end!! thank you so much for reading, i appreciate all the kind words and attention this has received. it really has been one of my all time favorite projects, and i hope the ending does not disappoint  
i'm on tumblr @trashtoziermouth if you want to stay caught up with me, though i am admittedly more active on here these days


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